


Guardian Angel

by Sunlight_Princess



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Youtube RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Drama, Fluff, M/M, Markiplier - Freeform, Romance, Septiplier - Freeform, Smut, jacksepticeye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunlight_Princess/pseuds/Sunlight_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a tempered grace in that kiss they shared, a gentle passion of a different kind than just the fervor of intimacy. It was a resonance of something ungraspable and yet meaningful, strong enough to break through the darkness in Jack's heart, the one he so desperately wanted to hide in. His arms rose to weave around that fair neck and tangle long fingers in dark, wet strands graced by a vibrant shade of blue.</p><p>Just the two of them and the rush of water all around... It felt like a lucid dream, a child's fantasy consisting only of innocent white and warm light, an emotion with no image attached. He felt like he could almost sense Mark's heartbeat through all the physical layers that separated them, like that kind, precious heart was, in fact, pounding alongside his very own.</p><p>It was hard to breathe, as though Mark's affection was suffocating a part of him. He wanted to run, he wanted to stay; he wanted to escape, he wanted to hold on; he was contradicted akin to being both blind and clear-sighted alike. As though the other man was folding invisible wings over Jack's own existence, their feathers fluffy and white and yet impenetrable for the evil that tried to rend asunder his very being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conflict

The thing that was killing him was the gentleness. The strength and the sweet sensation of safety that it brought, the way it could make him feel when he neared it too close for comfort, like a fragile moth drawn to a warm, beautiful but oh so destructive flame. It hurt to want it, it hurt to think about it; it hurt not to have it yet it was even scarier to imagine how much it would hurt if he did. He couldn't have it. He shouldn't have it. It was too dangerous; it would crush him.

And still here he was. Sitting right next to that inviting source of warmth again, for the first time since a long time. Listening to the soothing, deep rumble of that voice, trying to avoid looking too often, too obviously, into the endlessness of those inscrutable, dark eyes. Their color was chocolate, the hue of something as sweet as their owner. The merry twinkle in them was bright and lively, as sparkling as stars could be in the deepest of nights. They could fool many, but not many could fool them and he was no exception. The moment that deceptively carefree gaze had cast itself upon him, he'd known that it had exposed everything he might have tried to cover up and hide, exposed it for no one else to see bar the chocolate eyes that same gaze belonged to.

But neither of them had broached the subject. They had greeted each other with a smile and a hug, a hug the repercussions of which he was feeling even still, hours after those arms had wrapped themselves around him and pressed him close to that well-built body. He had wanted to stay enfolded in that hold a little longer, instead he had pulled away too hastily, afraid. The black monster of terror was so much larger and so much more terrifying than the shy presence of longing hiding in the corner of his heart like a wounded little animal. He couldn't. He couldn't, he shouldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to.

"-any collaborative projects while you're here?"

The sudden silence made him aware that all attention was focused on him now, including that of the man to his immediate right. He felt that chocolate-hued gaze again, feverishly trying to guess the beginning of the question he'd barely caught the ending of. Collaborative projects... in general? With somebody in particular? After a few more moments of hesitation he finally replied with a 'yes' which resulted in the happy cheering of the audience, leaving him to hope that he'd managed to give a plausible response. When asked to elaborate, he evaded tactfully with some silly jokes and supposed unwillingness to spoil the surprise.

Sadly it wouldn't remain his only faux pas during the rest of the convention panel he hosted together with a few more of his kind of entertainers, YouTube stars as many were prone to call them. A term he never really endorsed, neither did he feel particularly like a star or even an entertainer today. He just felt debilitated, and perpetually anxious.

"Jetlag still gettin' to ya, eh, buddy?", the good-heartedly teasing remark following his next minor slip up was accompanied by the friendly slap of that one strong hand atop his slender shoulder, causing him to flinch. Unnoticed to everybody else. Way too obvious for ever the same eyes, brown and sweet as chocolate, astute and attentive like a lie detector.

Which was why he didn't allow himself to lie, laughing out instead - loud and boisterous, and too counterfeit to his own hearing. But vigor and laughter was his shield and sword in this and he was not willing to give up the fight just yet. Not yet. Not just yet.

He barely remembered how the rest of the panel continued and how it came to an end, somewhere along the way it all had blended into some sort of a clouded daze where his spirit was a mere spectator to the doings and sayings of his body that seemed to act separate from his mind. Going through the motions, a routine that was so familiar, so perfected, it flowed all by itself even when his heart was not in it. His thoughts were far, far away from the happenings around him.

Eventually the convention was over and he was free to go, declining the invitation to dinner from his friends whom he hadn't seen in a very long time and whose company he wanted too desperately to permit himself to have it. He told them he was tired and wanted to rest, the flight had been long and exhausting and timed rather badly which was in fact true, his plane got delayed and had landed with barely an hour left until the start of their panel. He had to rush here from the airport and even though normally all of that would have hardly left a dent in his usual energetic disposition, it was still a good enough excuse to have them let him go without appearing too suspicious to any of them. Any but one, he guessed, his own eyes diligently escaping that chocolate-hued gaze as he said his goodbyes and wished them lots of fun. They'd see each other tomorrow again.

He was off to his hotel then, alone and fighting a mauling sense of paranoia. A feeling that was actually warranted in view of everything that rested in an invisible, leaden weight atop his shoulders, yet he was persistent in trying to ignore the unwanted feelings and perceptions. He truly could use a good rest. He hadn't been getting much of it lately. But first things first - after entering his suite he took a long, hot shower, spending endless, idle minutes just standing under the downpour of water with his eyes closed and his mind wandering. The bathroom was damp and steamy by the time he was done, slipping into a pair of loose sleeper pants and a grey T-shirt, bare feet sinking into the fluffiness of the carpet in the bedroom as he'd entered it little later. He glanced towards the huge suitcase near the closet and let out a grave sigh. He should unpack. Thus it was what he set out to do, regardless of how much he didn't really feel like it.

"Hey. Are you aware that you've left your front door unlocked, you dingus?"

He startled and dropped the small stack of shirts he was going to stuff away, the pile of material soundlessly plopping to the floor near his bare feet. Swirling around, pools of clear, sharp blue came to stare into warm, fawn counterparts and his expression must have shown quite a degree of panic, causing his unexpected visitor to laugh out softly.

"Whoa, sorry. Didn't mean to nearly make you crap your pants."

Christ almighty, had he really missed to lock his hotel room door after entering...? That had been stupid. Stupid and careless and way too freaking dangerous. His mind really was all over the place, forgetting something as mundane and yet paramountly important as that.

"You alright? You seemed a little bit spooked the entire day today."

That was probably true, and he should have made a better effort to conceal it. Even though he doubted he would have been able to trick the man in front of him no matter how much he would have tried. Nonetheless he recomposed and forced his best, teasing grin onto his face.

"Aww, were you worried about me, sweet cheeks?"

His opposite however, reacted not with usual cheerfulness and some repartee remark, but placid earnestness instead: "As a matter of fact, I am worried about you. Something seems off."

Well, because something _was_. Not that he was willing to openly admit to it. Not that it was anybody's business altogether. Even that of his friends. _Especially_ that of his friends. Especially _this_ one friend.

"Nah, I'm just real tired, man. It's been one long-ass day for me." He maintained his grin - and his distance, by taking a few steps back when the other man took a few towards him.

"No, there's something else. You're different from the last time I saw you."

He laughed out; again, that overly illusory sound ringing out in his own ears. He could bet his opposite could hear the deceitfulness of it as well. "Of course I am, you big goofball! Last time you saw me in person was well over a year ago. People change." On camera, it was always something different. On camera, it was a job as much as it was fun. But when the lights went dark and the lens was off... It hadn't used to be that way a year back, either. He'd used to be pretty much the same on and off screen, but things did change. People did change because their circumstances might have. Everything did change, sometimes over time and sometimes in a blink of an eye.

"That they do." His interlocutor confirmed and closed the distance between them even further.

There was only so much space he could retreat to, bumping his slender back into the closet door, wood clanking softly against wood as he pressed himself against it. He tried not to show it, but he was getting increasingly uncomfortable under the inspection of that unreadable gaze which seemed able to read _him_ all too easily. Mere seconds later those eyes of dark, chocolate hue were so incredibly close as one of those hands reached out to stem itself to the side of his face. The two of them were near enough to each other now that he could faintly feel the warmth radiating off the taller, broader body, swallowing hard against the agitation rising rapidly within him.

"Mark... what are you doing?" His voice unintentionally came out soft and stifled, a grave contrast to its usual vibrant sonority. _Jack_ , that trusted alter ego of his, wasn't there to cloak his entire self akin to snuggling into a big, fuzzy coat, leaving him chilled and entirely too exposed to the uncanny scrutiny of his friend who, too, seemed different. The way the barely older man looked at him made the Ireland-born feel his insides twist and churn with an indefinable sort of disquiet. One of those hands remained near his face, yet the other one reached up and settled gently against his upper arm which flinched under the touch.

"You're trembling," Mark pointed out softly to him just then. "Why?"

He was, and he hadn't even noticed. It became even more evident when he tensed up after that smooth baritone, lowered as it was, had posed its alluding question, sending a shiver down his spine. Inches away from him, he was asking why?

"You're too close..." Entirely too close. Dangerously close. Or... not close enough? If he imagined himself wrapped up in that warmth... but was it genuine? The desire. Or was it just him seeking shelter? A sanctuary to hide in...

He knew the other man had caught him at an entirely bad time. He was exhausted from the sleepless night before his sleepless flight, worsened by constant anxiety and today's stress of the convention, as pleasant as most of their panel might have been. He couldn't think straight. For weeks now he had not been able to, and right now even more so. This was bad... all of this... the timing, this proximity, the emotions... It was all wrong and twisted and tainted, only catalyzed by the demons that had torn their way into his life.

"I've been this close before, Sean."

The abandonment of his nickname made this entirely too personal. It struck into his heart like hot iron, hammered in deeper with every next word.

"I've hugged you before. I've sat next to you before. You've never been like this."

 _Neither have you_ , he wanted to say, yet all that happened was a jittery breath. And another one and one more, before he lowered his gaze for the inability to be looking into those observant, fawn eyes anymore.

"It's... This is..."

"Different from a year ago?," Mark questioned him quietly. "Just like you seem to be?"

The other man knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. Maybe not the particularities of it, but he knew that something was up. That something was wrong. That something was off. And realizing that scared Jack even more, because it presented him the one opportunity he couldn't allow himself to take despite so very desperately wanting to. It wasn't fair... He shouldn't have come here, to this city, this convention; he should have feigned something, anything, some reason to decline. Withal that stupid, underlying hope had driven him, guided him, pushed him to go. And now here he was... making an even greater chaos of his life, an even greater mess of himself than it, than he already was.

The gentle hand on his upper arm slid upwards, slipping along the finely crafted curve of his shoulder and the dip between it and his neck, brushing even higher until that warm palm lay resting softly against his cheek.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? That you had somebody this close to you?" And it was abundantly clear that his friend meant an entirely different kind of 'being close' than that which used to be between them. It stunned him on a deeply intricate level he couldn't begin to understand; what was the older man up to? And why now all of a sudden? With what purpose, what meaning?

The hand on his cheek seemed to burn his skin... or maybe it was the deep blush that had tinted it a healthy pink color. "I don't understand..." He truly didn't. Or maybe he did, at least a part of it and that part confused him even more. He had never been more conflicted during the short span of his barely 25-year-long life. "What do you want...?"

That same hand moved again, caressing the length of its fingers along the firm set of his jawline and soon taking his chin with index and thumb to gingerly nudge his head up again so that their eyes could lock sight on each other once more.

"...to get even closer."

A temperate, aspirated whisper that fell against his lips and before he could ever say anything at all, those very lips of his were gently claimed by those of another. It pulled a soft, startled gasp from him, wholly drowned in the delicate, deceptively innocent connection of their mouths; the press of those pliant lips upon his own undemanding and yet unyielding at the same time. Jack's arms finally found to motion, shooting up to let the left one grasp at one of those stout shoulders while its right-sided twin stemmed itself against the firmness of Mark's chest, delivering a feeble attempt to push the taller presence away. To no avail, moreover he perceived the velvet pair claiming his soft own move enticingly.

He flinched and tried to pull away, only entangling himself even further into the fine net that had caught him. That arm, the one that wasn't busied with its hand keeping his chin a captive and his head and lips in place, snapped around his waist and curled a strong hold on it, pressing him up even more, all close and personal, against the stronger figure that had him imprisoned in its grasp. Resting palm flat against that sturdy chest, Jack's own fingers curled up now, clutching a handful of black material comprising the form-fitting shirt that covered his friend's torso; a desperate, failing try to resist.

This... How... His head was spinning.

Held in place so wonderfully firmly, he got squeezed even tighter and it pulled a sweetly distressed whimper from him, causing his eyes to fall semi-shut with a mild flutter of crescent-shaped, black lashes. Tension reigned supreme in every muscle, tendon and sinew of his tautened body, high voltage pinballing from synapse to synapse in jolts of tiny electric shocks.

The thing that was killing him was the gentleness. The strength and the sweet sensation of safety that it brought, the way it made him feel being too close for comfort, like a helpless moth touching its frail wings to a warm, beautiful and oh so destructive flame. It hurt to want it, it hurt to think about it; it had hurt not to have it yet it was even scarier now that have it he did. He couldn't have it. He shouldn't have it. It was too dangerous; it would crush him. It was crushing him already. The warmth, the care, the honesty of affection... The confliction, the conflict, the chaos and confusion... The inner struggle was excruciating and this entire situation... overwhelming. Too much... It was too much... He didn't know what to do... He wanted- He needed-

"Jack. Jack, hey... Hey, easy."

He didn't even notice that their kiss was no longer a kiss. That it had stopped, while those arms went on to curl themselves around him fully now, no longer holding him in place but gently bringing him into a firm embrace. He noticed only now that it shook him uncontrollably, inside and out, his breaths a messy staccato of uneven in- and exhales. A lump in his throat and the pressure of treacherous liquid burning behind blue eyes screwed shut so tightly it hurt, and he wasn't capable of pinpointing half the reasons for that unwanted, unwelcome need to let those salty droplets fall.

"It's okay... It's okay. Everything's alright."

The soothing sound of that smooth, deep timbre echoing in his ears, lips touching a soft kiss to his temple to remain lingering there in a comforting press for a few extended seconds.

Nothing was okay. None of this was alright. Everything was a terrible mess outside of the small fortress that those arms had built around him for now, having enfolded him protectively in their caring hold, hiding his quivering form away against the stronger body he clutched at.

"I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. Shhh... Easy... Easy."

Hadn't meant what? Was sorry for what? It wasn't making any sense... None of this was... He himself wasn't; hadn't been for a quite some time now. He tried to steady himself, but it was hard. He didn't want to imagine what Mark might have been thinking of him right now and frankly... he didn't have the strength to even care. He just let the other man hold him, a decision that was probably stupid... stupid and careless and so, so dangerous. Regardless... he allowed himself that moment of weakness, accepting and welcoming something he knew he couldn't, shouldn't have despite how desperately every fiber of his being wanted to own every second of it for as long as it could be granted to him.

But no, he was not willing to give up the fight. Not yet... Not just yet.

He didn't really remember how he got into bed. It was a blur of contact, warm hands on him, touching, guiding, accommodating, helping him to lie down and covering him with a snuggly blanket. The moment his head had touched the pillow, his consciousness got swallowed by pitch-black, dreamless darkness for which he was actually thankful. His dreams had been nothing but chaotic and uncomfortable for the past weeks, sometimes bordering on nightmares and sometimes going all too far beyond.

Still, he woke up again way before sunlight graced the skies. Night still claimed sovereignty outside behind the windows, the almost full moon high up on the firmament, halfway hidden by the fluff thick clouds that hid away most of the stars as well. He knew he wasn't alone even before he opened his eyes, feeling a presence there beside him, fingers fondly combing through his chestnut hair in calm, steady motions.

Same motions stopped when his eyelids drew apart and allowed those intensely blue eyes of his to see again, looking up to see Mark there, sitting on the edge of the bed. The only source of light was the bedside lamp, throwing long shadows into the room and bathing the other man's well-build figure in soft, yellowish glow. His chocolate-hued eyes seemed much darker thanks to the illumination setting, appearing almost obsidian in their color.

"What time is it...?", he questioned quietly, voice soft and groggy.

"A few minutes past three AM," Mark replied in an equally hushed intonation. "Go back to sleep." His hand reached for Jack's hair again, but the Ireland-born was quick on catching it by the wrist and pushing it away again.

"Don't..." He shuffled around and sat up in bed, scooting back a little to bring some more distance between them, the pillow scrunching up between his back and the headrest of the bed. Mark looked at him for a small, wordless moment, appearing almost a bit lost.

"Did it really freak you out that much? Me kissing you?"

This time it was on Jack to be silent for a small while. Then he exhaled a heavy breath and brought up his own hand to rack his long fingers through his anyhow tousled hair. "I... No idea. It did startle me something good," he admitted. "I was so tired and-"

Just then, it dawned on him and he gripped tight the second cushion to his side, swinging it to smack it flat against the side of his friend's face. "You asshole! You did it on purpose, didn't you?! Just to push me?!" Push him over the edge. The other man had noticed how fucked up a state he'd been in, how mentally and physically drained - which always made people's defenses, no matter how well-placed, so much weaker. If you applied even more pressure atop them then, you'd get them to break and he almost had, yesterday. He'd almost broke down and opened the gates, revealed a truth that was way too fucking dangerous to let loose. Oh, this goddamn-

He swung the pillow again but this time, Mark caught it in a grip of his own, stopping it from colliding with his head another time. "Partly, yes. I knew I wouldn't get much out of you otherwise. Look, Jack, I'm sorry."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" The younger man hissed, yanking at the corner of the pillow in his grasp yet his fellow YouTuber was holding on to said object just as firmly. "Do you even know-" He fell silent abruptly and just gave the pillow another angry yank.

"Know what?" Mark broached, not letting go either. "I want to know, Jack, I really do. And that kiss... it wasn't nothing. I meant it. I do want to get closer to you. If you let me."

Realizing that he wasn't gonna get that pillow back anytime soon, Jack decided to abandon it and shimmied over to the other edge of the bed instead, getting off the piece of furniture. Now on the other side of it and up on his feet, he glared daggers his friend's way.

"Shove off, okay?! I don't- It's just-" The words wouldn't come out. It wasn't even anger speaking out of him, his irritation a poor cover up for what was truly trying to push up from the inside. He couldn't let it. It was too dangerous... Too dangerous. "It's _really_ bad timing right now, Mark. I have so much on my plate already, I can't-"

Getting up to his feet as well, Mark's voice rose up a notch in its volume as well. "Finish your goddamn sentences, man!" He demanded exasperatedly, which in turn did manage to piss Jack off in the actual sense of the word.

"Yeah, and how about - fuck you!" He spat, swirling around on his heels with the intention to rush off to somewhere, anywhere, only to get away. From the confrontation. From the worry, the care he saw etched all over that handsome face. He couldn't have that... That gentleness, the one that was killing him to even see, let alone experience. He couldn't... Couldn't, shouldn't-

He didn't get far. Mark was quick on intercepting him, a few strides brought him close enough to reach the Irishman and grab his wrist, pulling him back towards facing each other.

"Oh no, you're not running away now."

They were so suddenly so close yet again, and Jack's heart leapt up so high he could almost feel it beating in his throat instead.

"Let me help, Sean."

Again, the mention of his name. It was unusual to hear it being spoken by that voice, unusual and strangely effective all the same. It barreled through his chest and knocked the wind out of him, rendering him speech- and motionless for the few moments it took the other man to form even more tenderly murderous words.

"Whatever it is you're going through right now, it's getting to you, bad. I could see it straight away, Jack, and the moment I wrapped my arms around you back at the airport I felt it as well. You can try to hide it from others, but you can't hide it from me. Hell, you can't even hide it from others all that well. The only reason they don't ask is-"

"Because they know how to respect somebody's privacy, Mark!" He cut the hurtful flow of those persistent, gentle words the moment he managed to get his bearings back together. "Keep your nose out of other people's fucking business, understood?!" He needed to get away. He had to, now. Right now. Yanking, he tried to get his wrist out of the harmless yet steely hold those strong fingers had on it - to no avail.

"I won't," Mark replied, the smooth timbre of his voice steady and resolute. "I can't. I did that once; I kept my nose out, and my worries in. And you know what it'd cost me?" Despite all composure, there was no covering up the pain that flooded those bright, fawn eyes the very next instant, grief and remorse thick in that lowered, baritone inflection. "It'd cost me a friend, Jack. I won't lose another." The way he said the last sentence reflected a firm resolution, an iron will set in stone.

For a moment, it stupefied Jack something good. "What are you talking about?" The question wasn't even fully out of his mouth however, when it dawned on him; Daniel...? Was he talking about Daniel? His pending outrage got replaced by stun, he was entirely taken aback by that revelation prior to letting his emotions spill out through the flabbergasted tone of his voice. "I'm not... Jesus, Mark, I'm not suicidal or anything!" It wasn't that kind of problem at all. It all was a wholly, completely different issue. "I'm just... I-"

"You're in need of help." Mark persisted softly. "So let me help you, _please_."

The plea wasn't only in his words, it was in the affectionate gaze of his compassionate, chocolate-hued eyes as well, causing all fight to evaporate out of Jack's roused spirit. The rebellious tension slipped out of his body, leaving behind acceptance and fatigue.

"And in order to help me you had to come up and kiss me?" He chose to address an entirely different topic instead, one that was equally as uncomfortable yet less perilous to talk about. His distraction worked well enough to lead away from the primary thing he didn't want to be discussing, although it would make his overall predicament even worse as he'd soon come to find out.

"Why? Did you dislike it?"

There was something haunting about the way his friend counter-questioned him because it was... nigh predatory in some intricately thrilling, sensual kind of way. His captive wrist received an abrupt but soft pull that got him tumbling forward into those arms again, finding them locked around him in the most confusingly delightful manner.

"Or are you simply afraid?"

His hands found themselves imprisoned between the tight press of their torsos, their difference in heights minimal enough to have those lips close to his own with one perfect tilt of the other man's clever head. He could feel the heat of that plush pair tantalizingly close to his own again.

"I can't..." He murmured helplessly, searching for a way to escape the temptation by bending his own head down instead, tucking his precariously glowing face away against the curvature of Mark's shoulder and neck. A cozy little place to hide in, albeit it didn't do him much good in trying to escape the chaos of emotions his friend's warmth and presence invoked upon him.

"But you want to." Husky words whispered right into his ear now, sending a hot shiver down his spine. "So... so badly... you want to..."

And Christ, those statements weren't wrong. It was as though Mark could read him like an open book, or maybe he wasn't putting up good enough of a fight to either hide or deny any of it - his mind wanted to, but his heart and his body were betraying him in the most scandalous ways. The longing was strong, and it showed... too clearly, it showed.

"Please..." He exhaled in a barely audible, jittery breath into the curvature of that neck he held his face pressed against, inhaling just as shakily and making matters even worse because that inhale brought with it the befogging mixture of fine cologne and a personal scent that was entirely Mark's own.

"Oh, I can please you."

Those lips touched to the outer shell of his ear and the contact, in pair with the confidently suggestive sound of that voice, made his knees weaken abruptly.

"I can please you in a million different ways if you only let me."

"That's not..." His heart stuttered and so did his breath when his earlobe was gently captured by soft lips and those arms squeezed him closer more tightly. It was hard to articulate himself especially when thoughts were becoming more and more clouded inside his head. "That's not what I- Oh shit..." He couldn't help his eyes falling shut when the next kiss was touched to the overly sensitive spot right beneath same earlobe. It was one of his most receptive spots, making him shiver and bite down on his lip to keep any even more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

No, he was not willing to give up the fight. And yet, just for now... just for a little while... he surrendered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody and thanks for clicking on my fiction =) My name is Emilia and I've been shipping Septiplier since only a small while ago, therefore this is my first work featuring this lovely pair. This particular idea just struck me sometime late at night last week and I decided to let it play out on (electronic) paper. So let me know what you think of it; feedback is always much appreciated. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Till next chapter!


	2. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On we go! I'm very happy you guys seem to like the story so far, and I hope that will continue to stay that way =) Please let me know what you think of this chapter in a comment at the end, and I wish you lots of fun with it! Please enjoy!

The thing that was killing him was the gentleness. It seeped out from that wondrous presence which held him a willing captive and it soaked through him, through his skin, his flesh and his bone to his very core. His heart was wild aflutter in his chest, like a trapped bird flapping its wings against the bony cage of his ribs, the pressure so vivid he could hardly swallow against it when those warm, soft lips kept up their southward travel from his ear down his neck. Their touch was feathery, meek grazing of velvet against receptive tissue made worse by the heat of the breaths that accompanied each little nip and nibble.

His resistance was almost nonexistent now, he felt more of a rag doll ready to sack down and fold itself up on the ground. But the arms that held him did so with firm, gentle confidence, which only made this delightfully worse. His face was still hidden away against the curvature of Mark's neck and because of that the position of his own head was tilted which was leaving the delicate curvature of his own neck stretched and exposed just perfectly for that mouth to place its affections to all the right places. He flinched to his own sharp gasp when a strong kiss got placed right in the sensitive dip of it, too befuddled to even notice the steps they were taking.

Though it really was Mark who took the steps, he himself only followed or rather backed away because the other man was walking forward up until the back of Jack's knees hit the edge of the bed. The movement didn't stop, toppling him dangerously and with another audible, quick intake of air he perceived himself falling down, the mattress bouncing softly beneath their combined weight landing in the covers. Mark had reached one hand out preemptively, catching himself against the surface of the bed to avoid his body crashing down on the more slender creature now beneath him and that gave the Irishman enough wiggle room to scoot upwards in one last, desperate, barely conscious attempt to escape that which he couldn't, shouldn't, wasn't allowed to have. He wanted to get away so, so much because he was scared mindless of how badly he found himself craving more of this. More of that warmth, more of that fondness, more of that care... more of that gentleness that was slowly but surely eradicating every last bit of his good sense.

"Mark... Mark, wait, stop..." He chanted under his breath, sounding even more unconvincing than when he was faking his laughter earlier this day.

The barely taller man had followed right after his friend's scooting away form, his broader body covering up the shapely figure now trapped right beneath him once again. His hands found Jack's own, entirely too skillful to slide his fingers between those of his younger friend and thus make it feel somehow ridiculously sweet and romantic as he pinned both of those rebellious appendages either side of Jack's currently very much spinning head. Same fingers of his strained and curled abruptly, squeezing spasmodically against each set of Mark's own when the older man lowered his head and claimed Jack's lips another time.

The kiss was sweet and sensual but it was intense as well, its ardor sweeping any remaining notion of resistance out of his overwhelmed mind. He felt the heat in that touch and it burned him in the most harmlessly destructive way, shooting up his nerve tracks like fire along a gasoline-drenched tree. He held his breath because he knew what would happen if he'd dare exhale just now, the pressure of restrained air in his chest and head only making it even more torturously wonderful. Lips working feverishly against his own; a soft, helpless whimper passed through his nose first, and then one more and another and eventually all air escaped him in a charming little moan he'd tried to stifle as best as he'd been able to. But it was a crack, one that was rapidly growing bigger, threatening to swallow him whole. When something warm and slick and moist slid across his loosely shut lips, he barely gave himself credit for parting them a small bit, a reflex born out of that treacherous desire smoldering within him, allowing that foreign tongue to slip into his mouth and brush his own in an invitation for a little dance.

"Hngh!" A forlorn sound of broken protest that got lost in the kiss and the breath they shared amidst it, his body tautened like an arrow and the tension rattled through it in small quivers here and there.

He was losing the fight. He was losing himself; in the moment, in the man above him, in the refuge of fond contact, solace and affections all trust upon him. It felt wonderful but at the same time conflictingly embarrassing and intimidating, he needed the comfort so much that it had him absolutely terrified of letting it in. Like getting split down the middle, two halves of his consciousness were vying for dominance inside him and it was tearing him apart.

When they finally parted he sucked in so much air so abruptly it left him lightheaded for a moment, shivering at the butterfly kisses that fluttered along his cheek and towards his neck again.

"Mark..." His voice was nary a jittery whisper slipping off his vocal cords.

"Shhh."

He felt the vibration of that lowered baritone against his skin as it hushed him, and for some inexplicable reason it almost caused him to choke up for all the resolute tenderness which hid in that inimitable timbre. He couldn't... and yet he did. He shouldn't... and yet he had.

"I..." Another attempt of his to speak that failed miserably, silenced once again by another loving "Shhh..." breathed against his neck.

His left hand was free again then, because Mark's own had let go and skittered lower instead, caressing over his irregularly heaving chest and same freed hand shot upwards to grip at the older man's firm shoulder again, giving it a feeble push that was unsuccessful in achieving anything at all. There was no strength... He just wanted... He wanted...

"It's okay..." Another whisper sneaking into his consciousness through his auditory cannels, and those kisses travelling up to reach his ear. That devious hand however was on an entirely different journey, boldly pushing past the elastic band of Jack's loose sleeper pants.

"You can hold on to me..."

And instead of pushing away he suddenly found himself grasping indeed.

"Hold on to me..."

That hand didn't stop, plunging deeper and delving past the hem of the boxers as well, seeking out that one pulsating source of heat and need. He didn't know whereto with himself, screwing his eyes shut and feeling like all yelling and crying at the same time.

"Hold on to me, Jack..."

His fingers curled up the very next instant, clawing short nails into tough skin beneath the thin barrier of the top that wrapped itself around that stout torso while his bendy spine did a little arch and buckled his hips into the touch that had curled itself around his erection both gingerly and oh so perceptibly.

"Fuck..." It escaped his lips in a sharp groan, tilting his head back further against the pillow and feeling liquid fire hit his senses in short, shocking waves when that calloused palm started moving in an unhurried manner, incinerating his thoughts to leave them little more than insignificant, tiny heaps of ashes soon to be blown away by strong gusts of honeyed pleasure.

Oh, he shouldn't... They shouldn't... This was... all kinds of... all kinds of... _wonderful_. Wrong. _Needed_. Needy. _Delightful_. Dangerous.

"It's okay, Jack..."

That husky, deep voice in his ear enveloping his sense of hearing like the smoothest, darkest silk, too hard to ignore, impossible to resist. The steady caress of that hand up and down his arousal, not slow enough to be torturous, not fast enough to bring the end about too quickly.

"Just let yourself fall..."

The bliss was piling up inside every muscle it seemed, making him tremble sweetly under the comfortable weight that had him trapped beneath it, and it was so, so, so hard to keep the sounds inside. They wanted to break out of him just like so many other things did, soft groans and candied whimpers betraying all his enjoyment and embarrassment. Let himself fall... but it was scary... so scary... to break upon the impact and shatter into millions of pieces... He couldn't... couldn't... couldn't...

"I promise I will catch you."

His hand clamped down harder onto the solid biceps it was clawing at, surely leaving marks and he could not care less, all the more so when that devilish hand picked up pace, pumping hard and fast in a mess of wonderful warmth and friction, soon slicked in its motions by the pre-cum dripping richly from the tip of his stiff length.

"Shit... Oh... shit... Fuck- me-" He couldn't, and it was such a relief to let the first heady moan roll off his tongue, liberating the sound into the space around them. After the first came the second and the third and one more and another, letting all restrictions and barriers fall he allowed himself to do the same, plummeting down into a marvelous sea of breathtaking sensation. All got washed off and away, becoming small and insignificant in the wake of his senses basking in this short, beautiful moment where there existed nothing else but pleasure and joy.

He knew Mark was dragging it out and he was both feverishly wanting for it to keep going and desperately wishing to finally reach its sweetened end.

"Mark... oh, fuck- Please... Just-! Nghnnn-" He couldn't take it. He couldn't; he needed- needed...

His moans became short, sharp and vehement when his lips were suddenly captured by another pair in a bruising kiss and that hand began to literally jerk him off in rough, fast movements that caused the entire world around him to just... dissipate, his heart pounding somewhere in his temples as the pressure piled up and up and up and-

His ecstatic outcry got halfway muffled by the avid connection of their mouths, his spine curling outward when orgasm hit home both merciless and beautifully violent, zapping through his entire being, corporeal and not, through every organ, brain cell and blood vessel, expelling the white mess of seed into the confines of his boxers. Oh mother Mercy and all things holy... How long has it been...?

It took a small while for his supposedly immortal soul to settle back into his mortal body after reaching such immoral ecstasy, spending an idle minute just catching his breath and floating somewhere between now and an ungraspable forever. But that ungraspable forever waned and dissolved into nothingness way too swiftly again, leaving behind the bitter notion of having been a simple hormonal high that came and went as quickly as an intoxicated rush. Nothing more than a drug you craved a repetition of again and again and again, all the more so when you needed to get away from unwanted reality. The escape was transient; it wasn't real. It was no solution... just a placebo to dull the pain.

Those thoughts were like buckets of cold water poured out over his heated senses, and suddenly the only warmth remaining was that of the body atop him. He knew those chocolate-hued eyes were watching him without having to open up his own. The mild stinging in his cramped up joints reminded him of the strong grapple he still had on Mark's shoulder and he unclenched his fingers abruptly, stemming his palm against the front of same shoulder instead.

"Get off..." His voice was still affected by the aftershocks, sounding shaky and weak. It pissed him off.

"Jack-"

"Get off me..." He repeated, getting louder and firmer each time. "Get off. Get off!"

His opposite complied, smoothly rolling off him and to the side where he sunk into the downy mattress while Jack himself moved to sit up on it. Swinging his legs off the edge of the bed he stemmed his hands into it as well, hanging his head low for a moment and screwing his eyes shut, his body in a state of fast tension that all seemed to be gathered in his fingers which clawed into the wooden frame of the bed.

"It's okay, you know..." Mark spoke quietly, causing Jack's features to contort into a moonlight-graced grimace pending between ire and woe.

"Shut up." He gritted out through clenched teeth, standing up.

"Jack-"

"I need a fucking shower." With that he stepped to the closet and fished out a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants. Then he was gone. He fled the bedroom, shooing into the bathroom and hastily closing the door. It was easier to breathe now, without his friend's stiflingly comforting presence nearby. It allowed him to think more pragmatically without a cornucopia of emotions getting in the way, although thinking was exactly the thing he couldn't bear to do right now.

What had he... What had they... What the hell had happened...? Well, if he needed to jog his memory, the consequences of said happenings were right there in his pants, causing him to feel sticky and gross. Remembering it, he felt the blood rush to his face. Oh fuck... The things he remembered himself saying and the noises he remembered himself making... to be aware of the fact Mark, his friend, another guy, had heard and seen all that... More even, invoked all that... It was... It was... Mortifying.

He avoided the mirror for the inability to look his own self in the eye, doffing his stained clothes and hitting the faucet to let the shower spit out masses of lukewarm water at him. He stood under the downpour motionlessly for a long, long time, focusing his awareness on nothing else but the feel of liquid pouring down on him, the sound of it falling all around him resembling artificial rain. A sad mimic of the real thing, just like he himself was slowly turning out to be.

How much time had passed him by, he hadn't cared to know. When he stepped out of the shower the pads of his fingers were all shriveled up from excessive exposure to water and it actually felt nice to slip into warm, dry, clean clothes. He unlocked the door and exited the bathroom again, nearly jumping out of his skin when he turned his head and saw a silhouette standing leaned against the wall right next to the door there.

"Jesus Christ, Mark! You scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doing, standing around here like a goddamn creep?!" His heart palpitations were speedy ones from the small shock. Had his fellow entertainer been standing here this entire time?

"Sorry, my bad. I was just... listening."

He was...? Huh? "Listening to what?" Jack's dark brows narrowed then, and he scoffed quietly. "Don't worry, I won't drown myself in the bathtub or anything."

Mark flinched visibly at that. "Don't... Jack, please, don't. Don't make such jokes."

The other man looked and sounded so pained beseeching him of that... It caused all of Jack's anger and irritation to vaporize nigh instantly once again. He was a good bit mad at his friend, still his sarcasm seemed to have cut deeper than he'd ever intended it to; now he just felt like an asshole. Lowering his gaze, he nodded faintly.

"I... I'm sorry, okay?" He apologized quietly, pushing the barely taller Youtuber by. "I just... Could you just go? I need some space." He didn't wait for a reply, slipping into the bedroom and closing the door. His back hit the piece of wood a second later and he slumped against it, simply breathing in jittery intervals for a moment or few.

What had he gotten himself into? He couldn't handle this... this mess. Mark's approaches on him, those words, that voice, those eyes... That kindness. The gentleness, the one that was murdering him, chopping away piece by tiny piece from his resistance towards... whatever it was that his friend was trying to push on him. Whittling down his will to keep fighting this. The care, the affection... He couldn't let it get too close. He couldn't let him get too close. Why, why had he come here? He shouldn't have come here... But staying back home in Ireland in the shadows of his fear and paranoia had been getting more and more unbearable each day. Was this better, though? Was this really better, healthier, safer? No, no, it definitely wasn't safer. Not for his own self, and especially not for Mark. He should go. Tomorrow, tomorrow... tomorrow he should just pack up and go. Go home... back to that dreary place, back to the monsters lurking in the dark. Oh God, how much he didn't want to.

Crawling under the sheets he shuffled onto his side and buried half his face away into the blanket, trying and failing to ban all thoughts out of his head. They were persistent like poisonous snakes, writhing around in the convolution of his brain and spewing their venom everywhere. It was no good... he would never be able to fall asleep at this rate. He almost accepted defeat in that, mentally trying to prepare himself for the reminder of the night being a torture on his mind. Just then he heard the bedroom door opening and barely audible footsteps upon the fluffy carpet. The mattress rocked slightly under the addition of another weight as it eased down upon it, now resting right there beneath the same blanket. He felt that warmth again, faintly at first but it got closer until a strong arm wrapped itself around his waist from behind, gingerly pulling him closer to the sturdy body that had settled behind him.

"I told you to go." He murmured quietly, almost complacently; there was neither bitterness nor anger in his voice. He felt light shuffling and then a fond, artless kiss touched to the nape of his neck.

"I can't..."

And Mark sounded almost desperate exhaling those sincere, agitated words against Jack's skin. Both they and the breath that accompanied them made the smaller man shiver meekly.

"I can't leave you alone. I'm too..."

Scared, Jack realized. Mark was scared for him. Which was ridiculous but he didn't know how to reassure his friend that he was alright enough to never even consider... _that_. It was then that he also very suddenly and very clearly realized that he wasn't the only one struggling hard with nightmarish issues and personal demons, which echoed in a painful pang of guilt within. To have never even noticed that something might have been haunting his friend the same way something else had been haunting Jack himself the past few months... They both had their own ghoulish brand of paranoia to deal with now. But had he really been so blind? Mark had noticed his disquiet right away despite all pretences and cover ups, and he? He'd never had a clue until tonight. Back then, when the entire thing with Daniel had happened, he hadn't known Mark well enough to think it was his place to ask, or say much on the matter. But they were friends now. Good friends. Close friends. He couldn't... He should....

The young Ireland-born reached up a tender hand and placed it on the arm wrapped around his midsection, squeezing gently. "I'll be okay," he spoke in soft reassurance and got pressed even closer to the well-build form behind him in response. Mark's hold on him was so tight it was almost suffocating, and yet strangely... pleasant. Safe.

"Just... let me stay with you tonight? Please."

He closed his eyes and curled up a tidbit more, making himself into an even smaller ball of human to snuggle even deeper into the stalwart embrace locked so steadfastly around him. He was silent for a moment and then... "...sure." Sure. He could stay. They could stay. Simply stay like this, cozy and comfortable, thinking nothing. It was alright, wasn't it...? Just for now, for the next few upcoming hours... it was alright.

Jack's dreams showed him nothing again and for that, he was grateful. As grateful as he was for the tiny but crucial feeling of security nestled in the back of his mind, gifted to him by the presence whose firm hold on him would not loosen even for a second throughout the remainder of the night.


	3. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yush, another one done! I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as you seem to have enjoyed the first two, let me know what you think by the end of the read =) Off it goes!

He woke up to the sound of electronic alarm which most definitely wasn't his. For one, he had never set an alarm yesterday and for two, his phone's alarm was a far more upbeat melody than the one spilling out into the hotel bedroom right now. He heard a soft groan from behind him and suddenly became aware of how comfortably tightly he'd been squeezed at when the arm that had been slung around him unfurled itself and was gone. It left a feeling of emptiness he tried his best to ignore while Mark flipped himself onto his back and that same arm was flung out to let the hand attached to it slap its palm over the top of the bedside table a few times until he grasped the doodling cell phone and shut it off.

They lay in silence for a while then, Mark on his back staring up at the ceiling above them and Jack on his side staring at the wall right across him. The younger man didn't know if he was the only one of them feeling rather weird for all the things that had happened between them in the short span of barely a day, and he wasn't sure if he should bring any of it up or just... _Could_ you even pretend that those things had never happened between them? The kissing, the... hand job, the goddamn snuggling in bed as though they were some teenage lovebirds reunited after months of separation?

The man resting in the covers behind him cleared his throat, unwittingly making Jack flinch, albeit that stayed unnoticed since the Irishman was well-hidden in his cocoon of blanket and pillow.

"So... Signe would approve of this?"

Jack blinked a few times, bemused and thus replying with a very intelligent: "Huh...?"

"You know. The things we did. If she knew about any of this..."

"-she'd probably kick me in the balls really, really hard." Letting out a grave sigh Jack finally turned over onto his back as well, joining his friend in the overly exciting venture of watching the sunrays dance in meaningless patterns on the ceiling above them.

There was a longish pause before he raised his voice again, reminiscent.

"She never showed it much, but I knew she hated it... That whole... Septiplier thing. The fans shipping us. I suppose it's never a good feeling to have people draw art and write stories about your boyfriend screwing another man."

Mark chuckled lowly. " _Getting_ screwed."

Squinting, Jack rose a dark brow, repeating his earlier, bemused: "Huh?"

His fellow entertainer turned over onto his side to be facing him now, a grin stretching his full lips. " _Getting_ screwed by another man. If you didn't happen to notice, I'm usually the one on top."

Jack closed his eyes and growled in meek exasperation. "Fuck you," was the only rejoinder that came to mind. Another long pause erupted between them, during which he was very well able to perceive those chocolate-hued eyes lingering their observant, non-intrusive gaze on him.

"So if she'd disapprove, and I'm sure that'd be stating it mildly, why have you... You know. Allowed it all...?"

A fair question indeed, and one Jack had no real answer for as far as his own self was concerned. As far as his girlfriend – well, ex-girlfriend, really – was concerned however...

"Because she has no say in anything I do anymore." It was just that simple. And yet so much more complicated than he could ever make it sound like. So far nobody had known of them going their separate ways again and Jack didn't actually have any intentions on making it public anytime soon. He didn't need the shitstorm he knew would arise right then because he didn't think he would be able to deal with it. But it was okay if he let Mark know... wasn't it...? Or was it another horrifically erroneous decision on his part?

"How come...?" The notionally mentioned person questioned carefully, obviously very aware of how thin of an ice he was treading here.

Another long pause in which Jack remained silent, causing his friend to broach the subject:

"Did you guys... break up?"

Had they...? Jack supposed so... Then again, not really... He didn't know. It was a mess; a horrible, horrible, horrible mess. "Something like that..." He murmured absentmindedly, adding in a whispered: "I just... I let her go."

Mark furrowed his brows in warranted confusion. "Let her go...? Did she... I mean-"

Sighing, Jack re-opened his eyes to the unwanted reality again. "No." His voice was firmer again, firmer and a bit too detached in view of the discussed topic's gravity. "No, she didn't... cheat on me or anything. Neither did I do anything like that." Well... a statement up for debate since yesterday, he supposed. Then again, it wasn't really cheating since they weren't together any longer and really, Mark was the one initiating all of it. But he was the one who'd allowed it all still... Fuck, all of this was making his head hurt something fierce.

"I just... It's... complicated." He finally settled with this vague explanation and moved to sit up rather abruptly, swinging his legs out of the bed. "I don't really want to talk about it." He truly didn't. Didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it, didn't want to deal with it. He didn't want anything at all right now. Just some peace and quiet. Some peace and quiet and- He glanced at his friend and immediately averted his gaze again. No, no, no. He shouldn't... He couldn't. Oh God, someone please shoot him or something.

Mark meanwhile followed his example in getting out of bed, soon up on his own two as well. "Okay. Sorry."

The Ireland-born shrugged his slender shoulders nonchalantly. "You don't have to apologize." And that was the truth. None of this was Mark's fault. It wasn't Signe's fault either. It was all on Jack; this entire fucking mayhem he'd unleashed on the people around him was his alone to be blamed for. Letting people down... disappointing them... endangering them... All things he hated most, and all things he'd done aplenty in the past what?, two months? He'd never felt more of a failure in his life.

"Our panel starts in about two hours. I'm gonna... head to my room and change and then... come pick you up?"

The other man's quiet voice caused Jack to look up, the endless sky-like blue of his eyes meeting the intricate depths of their fawn counterparts. Right... The convention was going to last two more days. They had a lot of things to do, a lot of people to meet... Fans that had come a long way to see them for however short period of time would be granted to them... He couldn't let those people down as well, he couldn't disappoint them, too; those two things that he hated doing most... He had to go out there and do his thing. He owed it to them. He couldn't go back home yet, could he... He had to stay and-

"Jack?"

He shook his head once, as if willing to shake those thoughts right out of his head. "Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, okay." He could do this. He could. He had to.

He watched Mark round the bed that separated them until he stood so near again that Jack could faintly feel that inviting, destructive warmth again. Too close... too close...

_...to get even closer._

A strong hand gingerly settled on his upper arm and squeezed with gentle strength.

"I meant it, you know. What I promised you yesterday."

_I will catch you._

Taking a step back Jack roughly jerked his arm away from the other's fond touch. He hadn't meant for the gesture to turn out quite so dismissive and abrupt, and he didn't find the strength to glance to the side and into that handsome face either. He just tried to breathe through the acerbity of the moment, all air stuck in his lungs until his friend stepped away and left the room. The moment the bedroom door was leaned shut he allowed the oxygen to escape his pipes in a grave exhale, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. No, no, no, this wasn't good. This all was terrible... He shouldn't be here. He was hurting himself, he was hurting Mark. Yet more importantly than that... he was jeopardizing way, way too many things by being here.

He didn't move from the spot, not until he heard the front door fall shut, the sound of it dampened and dull but still overly audible in the complete silence that lingered around him and suddenly got so much more oppressive through the realization that he was completely alone in the hotel suite now. He brought up both his hands and raked his fingers through his short, soft hair, groaning in dejected misery. No, no, no, he could do this. He could. They were just two more days, right? Today and tomorrow, and then it would be over. It would be over... He'd go back home and leave all of this behind... All of this which he so desperately needed. But he could do this. He could do this, he was Jack fucking Septiceye. He could do all and anything through sheer strength of will and optimism alone.

A little bit invigorated by the power of self-motivation, the one talent he had and was actually proud of, Jack proceeded to finish unpacking his suitcase and for the lack of desire to go to the hotel restaurant ordered room service not that much later. The knock on the door came right when he was about done making the bed and his stomach did a few twists and turns to remind him how hungry he actually was. He hadn't been eating all too well lately... and he hadn't eaten anything since having gotten off that plane, either.

Yet what he received together with his food was much more than he could have ever stomached. That was why upon returning Mark found his Irish friend furiously throwing clothes back into the very suitcase they'd been pulled out of barely a few hours ago.

"Hey you big goober, you left you front door unlo- What are you doing?"

Jack swirled around, smacking the closet door shut in the progress of the motion. "Packing! And yes, Mark, the fucking door, oh my God, how could I! Would you give that shit a rest already?!" He had forgotten to lock the damn door again, yes, perhaps because the thing he had wanted to do most after he'd opened it to the polite knock of the room service was bolt right out of it. He was shaking with what seemed to be anger but really... it was just well-masked terror. He was terrified. Terrified through and through and the only thing he wanted to do was run. Somewhere. Anywhere.

"Packing? What- Why?"

It didn't fit. His fucking clothes didn't fit into the fucking suitcase because they were a chaotic pile of fabric instead of neatly folded stacks and it pissed him off. It was easier focusing on the hassle of that and it was goading him into a state of delirious rage which he knew wasn't good. He had to calm down. He needed... Needed-

"Jack! Could you answer me, please?"

Glaring up at his friend, he tried to breathe through the irrational ire effervescing within. It wasn't Mark's fault. He shouldn't be snapping at the other man. He shouldn't. Shouldn't. "I'm going back home." He replied as calmly as he could, swirling around one more time and resisting the urge to grip his head and scream out in frustration. How the hell were there _still_ so many clothes in there? Had he brought a second suitcase with him and somehow completely forgotten about it?!

"But you only arrived yesterday. We have another panel today, you have your booth and thousands of people who came here to see you. You can't just bail!"

He knew that. He knew that and he was diligently ignoring it. He didn't need to be reminded of it, thank you very much.

"Watch me," he gritted out and pulled out another stack of shirts. Why did he have so many fucking shirts? Why did he have to _bring_ so many fucking shirts? It was only a week-long trip!

"Well, I'm not letting you."

Jack almost chocked on the indignation that bubbled up and spilled out in incensed words little later as he pivoted another time to come face to face with his fellow entertainer. "Excuse me, you what? Since when do I need your permission?!" The gall that man had! The gall everybody had! He wasn't a puppet for others to manipulate and toy with as they pleased! He was a human being! He belonged to nobody. Nobody owned him and nobody ever could. He wouldn't allow that. He wouldn't... He wouldn't!

"I'm not letting you go," the older man repeated in quiet composure, attentive chocolate-hued eyes watching his opposite like a dangerous hawk might a skittish prey. Or perhaps, rather... like a protective tigress might her helpless cub.

"The fuck you're not. I ain't asking your ass to _allow_ me do anything. Capiche?"

An abrupt, cut short exhale was the thing fleeing his offensive mouth next, finding himself in a painfully familiar position from yesterday: pressed back flat to the closet door, wrists captive in strong hands and pinned either side of his head. Which was spinning again by the way, but this time with anger and resentment. Who did that idiot think he was?!

"Mark, what the fuck?!" He tried to yank his wrists free again – to no avail. Just like his agitated wiggling didn't help him liberate himself from his predicament in the least. Damn that man for being so freakishly strong; those rock climbing lessons were definitely paying off. "Let go of me!" But his verbal demands were as fruitless as his physical resistance seemed to be.

"No," was all of the simple answer he received, and it enraged him beyond imaginable.

"Are you fucking serious?! Dude, I swear to God, if you don't-" the rest of his angry speech got swallowed up by plush lips that pressed themselves against his own with resolute force, drawing from his throat a stunned noise that was a mix between a sharp gasp and a protesting mewl.

His whole body tautened with rebellious tension but in terms of raw, physical strength he was plain inferior to the other man. Mark held him in place rather effortlessly and for the life of him Jack couldn't tell why it felt so confusingly rousing. He couldn't help it, the ardent heat of the kiss and the tight press of their bodies were getting to him, his heart racing in his chest that felt delightfully constricted by a chaos of sensations and a harmless shortage of air. Where had all his anger gone? All his fear, too? When their lips were interlocked like this and that warmth enwrapped him like a safety bubble, everything just... vanished. For however short a moment, it was gone... All gone...

Without his consent his eyes were falling shut, jet-black eyelashes lowering their delicate mesh over his vision and making it a blur while tension was melting out of his stained muscles. Just like that, relaxing more and more with their kiss mellowing out from something forceful and heady into something sweet and sensual. The ever returning gentleness of it was once more like harmless knives driven through his mind, heart and soul, pinning them down and making it impossible to escape. They writhed in candied agony and bled thoughts and emotions he could neither understand nor allow himself to enjoy, perpetually stuck between the want to refuse it all and the yearning to completely drown himself in it.

Once more he barely noticed that their kiss was no longer a kiss, awoken from the spell those lips had cast upon them by a single word they articulated right then, so simple and yet so momentous:

"Stay..."

It was neither an order nor a demand, it wasn't even a request. It was a plea, another one of those he feared he wouldn't be able to refuse, though not for the lack of trying.

"I-" Yet he was cut short.

"Please, Sean."

The intimate, delicate usage of his birth name, again, like a bullet through his heart.

"I'm begging you. Just... stay."

It was unfair. Unfair, unfair, unfair, how could he say no to that voice? That face, those eyes? Those tender pools of chocolate brown that stared at him in such sincere affection and genuine entreaty, piercing their gaze right into his soul and pulling it out by the root to hold a willing captive in their grasp filled with that deadly gentleness he both so feared and longed for. He couldn't say no. He couldn't refuse. He should, ought, had to... but he couldn't.

"Alright..." Was thus his soft, defeated whisper. "I'll stay..." His wrists were free again yet there was no fight left in him so his hands simply sunk down powerlessly, arms hanging limply to his sides as he slumped against the wall. "I'll stay." Even he himself couldn't say why he sounded so forsaken right then. He felt drained... All of this was sucking the last bits of his strength away.

His face got taken by warm hands, lifted up, and he closed his eyes expecting another kiss to follow. It did, but it was different from what he'd braced himself for. His lips remained free of contact, instead that affectionate mouth touched to his forehead, lingering there fondly for a few extended moments in time during which Jack's heart clenched so harshly he almost chocked up. Screwing his eyes shut he tried to steady his breath and push back the sudden swell of tears, his hands coming up again to take hold of the other man's upper arms in a hard, nigh desperate grip. He felt that if he let go of Mark just then, he would simply crumble to the ground in a much grander sense than just the literal one.

It was unfair. Unfair, unfair... How easily that tenderness punched right through all of his defenses, crushing all the barriers and seizing the very essence of everything that hurt so much within. He knew it was supposed to help him eradicate that very malice which sat like a thorn in his side and hurt every time he took a breath, however he didn't know if it was actually making anything easier or just that much harder. He longed for the comfort so generously offered to him and at the same time... he was too painfully aware of how he shouldn't permit himself to accept it.

"Okay then. Now... get dressed. Get your stuff. And let us go."

He felt the airy breaths and the caress of those lips brushing his skin as they moved, and the words they were forming were bittersweet to hear.

"It's going to be okay, you hear me. Today is going to be great, and we're going to have a blast. And you're going to be your loud, obnoxious, adorable Irish self driving people nuts and giving out them best hugs ever. Alright?"

And it almost felt like Mark was trying to talk confidence into both of them, not just Jack himself. It caused the younger man to feel another leaden weight – that of guilt – crash down onto his spirit; he was forcing his friend to suffer together with him. Still a small, selfish part of him was actually rejoicing in that... in splitting the burden, in sharing the pain. It was wrong... wrong and egoistic and... needed. So, so needed...

"Yeah..." He whispered his response, softly at first and then with a more distinct resolution. "Yeah."

He lost a breath when he was pulled forward with abrupt but careful force, bumping into the broader body and feeling those arms snap around him in a tight ring, pressing him close with soft yet overly perceptible, nigh possessive strength. A powerful, hard hug he returned in kind, for a moment unable to pinpoint who of them was holding on more firmly. That scent and warmth enveloped him in another daze and he enjoyed that quietly earth-shattering embrace for as long as he could allow himself to. Which wasn't long, but every tiny break was welcome.

"We should... get going." He murmured against the shoulder he held his face hidden on, Mark's reply halfway muffled against the mop of Jack's own silky, chestnut strands:

"Okay."

They parted and it was a chilly sensation leaving behind a throbbing void the young Ireland-born tried to ignore. It took him but a few minutes to slip into a presentable outfit and soon enough he was in the foyer, putting his feet into his kicks.

"Hey, is that a letter? How stone age-y. Who's it from?"

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he swirled around and saw his fellow Youtuber examining the envelope lying around on the small commode. He was next to the other man in an instant, snatching the object in question out of that hand.

"No one. Don't go snooping about somebody else's stuff, would you? Seriously, you got like, no sense for other people's privacy, you gobshite." His blood was rushing loudly in his ears as he crumpled the letter up in his fist and, with some effort, stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans, all too glad that his wits were well-placed and well-honed enough to make him sound casually irked instead of overly terrified.

Mark laughed out, raising his hands up in a placatory gesture. "Sorry, sorry. Afraid I'm going to expose your secret admirer, eh?"

He reciprocated that sly grin with a small one of his own, telling his friend to shut up and how they should really get going now unless they wanted to be late. Thus, little later, they were out of the door, Jack turning around to actually lock the damn thing this time.

Secret admirer... He sighed inwardly. _Oh, if only._


	4. Collision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, another one down! The plot's finally getting into gears; I know it's probably not the most original idea ever but my Muses had wanted to have their own take at it so hopefully it will be a fun read regardless. Let me know what you think of the chapter by the end of it, here it goes!

The crowd was huge. He'd seen it before about a year ago, but it was much more daunting this time around because there were so many more people here to see no other but himself. A long queue of human beings, each different, unique and overly excited to meet him. Not Mark or Felix or somebody else more or about as popular, but him.

He was smiling, grinning, laughing, giving out hugs and autographs; all seemed perfect, he seemed his everyday self, bubbly and energetic and overly optimistic. At least, so it appeared like on the outside. On the inside however, the young Ireland-born was petrified. Every face he saw, he feared. Every smile directed at him made him flinch inwardly, questioning its sincerity. Worst was the physical contact, the hugs. He was giving them out as usual, generously and zestfully yet each time a pair of foreign arms locked around him in return, he had to suppress the intense urge to get away. No, not just away... He wanted to turn around and bolt towards the neighboring booth, towards that one presence that was a safe haven to his heart no matter how much his mind was trying to forbid him feeling that way. Feeling like wanting to run into those arms and hide in that embrace forever. Bury himself in that gentleness and let it slaughter him, let him bleed out all this pain and panic so he could be an empty shell again, a vessel to be filled with something more, something better, something... significant. He wanted it so much. He shouldn't, and yet he did.

Thus it was no wonder that all those conflicting thoughts and emotions left him absolutely drained by the end of the day; the anxiety had emptied the last reserves of strength and positivity he might have stashed away in the corners of his consciousness. So when it was all over Jack felt like shit and even worse, he looked it, too. He knew that because he was catching those gazes on himself – the worried, concerned, sympathetic gazes of his friends. They were considerate enough not to bring it up, which didn't necessarily make him feel any less guilty about giving them reason to be worried and sympathetic and considerate in the first place. He really should be going home... He was nothing but an inconvenience to everybody here, himself included.

He declined their invitation to dinner today as well, remaining somewhat truthful about the reason for it by telling them that he was tired and wanted to hit the hay early. Tired he was, yet he couldn't even dream of sleep because he knew with absolute surety that he wouldn't be able to get some anytime soon. His mind was already wandering to all the wrong places the moment he said his goodbyes to the others and started on his way towards his hotel; a condition that only grew more malicious and unbearable when he overstepped the doorsill of his hotel suite, stopping just a step away from the gingerly closed front door. Just... listening. To the darkness and the quietude that lingered within, their invisible jaws closing tight around his throat and tearing into his jugular until he perceived a nigh real sense of suffocation.

It was stifling. The solitude, the silence...

He forced himself to do a few more steps forward and jumped at the sound of somebody knocking at his door. Turning around he stared at the piece of wood, wide-eyed and motionless, holding his breath. The ice-cold sensation of fear clawed right into his heart; it froze over in his chest until he heard a familiar voice calling out.

"Jack. It's me."

The deep, relieved breath he heaved moved his entire torso, though relief was short-lived under the realization that this particular visitor might not be all too much better. Perhaps he should just pretend he-

"I just saw you go in, Jack. Open up. Please?"

He neared the door and placed his hand on the doorknob, hesitant. "What do you want?" He was desperate to let the other man in, which was exactly why he tried his hardest to fight the urge. Maybe Mark could say his piece through the door and then just... go.

No such luck.

"I'd rather we speak face to face, you know. Come on. It's really important."

He inhaled and exhaled, and then did it again and once more before finally parting the door from the frame, permitting his friend entry into the evening dimness of the suite since he'd never bothered to hit the lights. Something Mark didn't seek to remedy it seemed, just pushing him by and after closing the door – and turning the lock – Jack followed his fellow entertainer to the living area.

That was the point in time a light switch was put into use at last, illuminating the space around them with artificial yellow brightness. Mark turned to face him and the expression on his handsome features was somewhere between alarm and forced composure.

"You... uhm. You dropped something. Today at the con." He fumbled around a bit, pulling a scrunched up piece of paper out of his pants' pocket.

A piece of paper Jack recognized right away, becoming instantly nauseous, all the more so when he plunged his own hand into the pocket of his own pants and found it empty. The letter... Did he drop it?! How?! When?! Oh God... Oh God, oh God, oh God, please don't tell him...

"Did you... did you read it?" He managed to ask in a small voice, a mild quiver settling into his very bones. Please, please, please-

"I did."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"Jack, have you... have you gotten others like these before?"

A carefully posed question he didn't know how to respond to, even though his befuddled silence and his aghast expression likely spoke for themselves.

"You have, haven't you..." Was thus the rightful conclusion Mark drew on accounts of his friend's stupefied reaction. He raised a hand and combed his fingers through his blue-hued hair in evident distress. "God, that's why you're so freaked out. That's why-" He looked up again, his fawn eyes drilling their gaze into sky-blue counterparts. "Is that why...? Signe and you, is that the reason?"

Jack couldn't hold that eye contact for long. All he found himself capable of doing right then was bring his arms up to fold both defensively and protectively in front of his stomach, each hand gripping at the opposite elbow.

"Don't just stay silent, Jack, please. Tell me."

That smooth baritone had no demanding notes in it, still it was insistent, compelling him to finally whisper a defeated: "Yes..."

"Yes to what...?"

He swallowed thickly. "Everything." Closing his eyes, his arms squeezed his own midsection harder. "About four months ago... The first one, it came... about four months ago." God, had it really been that short a time? He felt like he'd aged a hundred years in the span of barely a hundred days. "I-... I didn't believe it at first, you know? I thought it was just some... I don't know. Some silly prank, maybe. Some... idiot screwing around."

But oh, how mistaken he had been. How horribly, horribly mistaken.

"And then one day, when I opened one of them... there were..." A rickety inhale, the air escaping him in a just as rickety whisper again. "There were pictures, man."

He didn't even know why he was telling Mark this all of a sudden. He simply found himself incapable to lie, especially with the evidence of his horrendous truth right there in the grip of that hand. He couldn't lie to Mark... He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of lying, tired of fighting... Tired of being scared, tired of being miserable, tired of feeling guilty and powerless and vulnerable. Tired, tired, tired...

"Pictures...? What pictures?" His opposite broached quietly.

"Of Signe. Her, outside. Her, at the shop, with her friends, at her house. In her bedroom."

"What...?!"

The sharply exclaimed, flabbergasted question caused him to flinch. Still, the gates were open now and it all was flowing out like water through a steadily growing crack in a dam. The shock of the past, the fear of the present... it all was there in his shaky words that tumbled clumsily past his lips:

"Somebody stood over her bed and took a picture of her sleeping... They'd been in her bedroom...! I was- I still am-" In absolute, terrified disbelief. "I..." He screwed his eyes shut more tightly. So near the edge, he just wanted to break and fall apart if only it would end that mauling pandemonium raging inside him. "And the letter, it said... It said to let her go or..."

Or she would get hurt. But she was fine. She was fine, wasn't she... He'd protected her. Nobody would hurt her, or anybody else he cared about. Not because of him.

"Jack..."

"So I did it." He interrupted, taking a step back and letting his back hit the wall powerlessly. "I let her go. I let her go..." He was thankful for the concrete support behind him because otherwise... he might as well have crumbled to the ground. "I loved her, and I let her go..." He still remembered her tears. Her confusion and her anger, the pain in her bright, lively eyes. Her words she'd said, telling him how much of an asshole he was for breaking her heart like that, without even giving her a reason why.

"You haven't... told her about any of this?"

He shook his head lightly. "No... No, I couldn't tell her." He hadn't been able to, he hadn't wanted to. He shouldn't even be telling any of this to Mark, so why was he... He was putting his friend in danger and he shouldn't. He shouldn't, so why was he? "I couldn't tell her, Mark... I couldn't tell anybody, because what if they..." He was shaken up, down to his very core. What if they... What if they...

"Wrapped you in their arms and said that it's okay...?"

The soft question went through his heart like hot knife through butter, pushing that one treacherous lump up higher in his throat.

"That they're not afraid? That they wouldn't leave... that they'd protect you?"

Those words he wanted, longed, needed to hear... Words he didn't dare to expect from anybody, because it was too dangerous... This was his mess... his burden, his enemy... He didn't dare getting anybody involved, getting anybody endangered... He'd push them all away before he'd ever see them get hurt on his account... He couldn't let anybody get close... He couldn't _keep_ anybody close... He'd shut himself off in this world of pain and fear and paranoia and battle it alone, somehow... Somehow... So long as everybody else precious to him was safe, it would be okay... It would be... would be...

He startled to the feel of strong hands gently taking his shoulders and pulling him away from the wall towards a different, much grander kind of support. Another person's presence, another person's warmth... That slightly taller, broader body he'd gotten so incredibly used to feeling himself pressed against in a mere couple of days... Those arms that went around him softly but resolutely, squeezing him tight and that stout shoulder which offered a hiding place once more as he buried his paled face against it.

The thing that killed him, was the gentleness. The one resonating in that inimitable, deep voice which whispered its honest words to him with a resolution and fondness that could only mean one thing. Only one.

"It's okay, Sean... I'm not afraid, and I won't leave."

The other man meant it. He meant it, he meant it, he truly, really meant it...

"I will protect you."

And it shattered Jack, like a mirror bursting along the countless, tiny cracks it had suffered through what seemed like a tiny eternity. It shattered him in a mercilessly vicious way that was both incredibly painful and wondrously alleviating when everything came crashing down like a roof the supporting beams of which had been knocked away by a brutal tornado. With a stifled sob he came undone within the affectionate embrace of those reliable arms that held him firmly and securely as he broke down in the protective sanctuary they'd build around him, falling apart to the sound of his tears overflowing, spilling out freely and amply like a torrent of grief and throe. He hadn't cried this hard, this violently in a long, long time... Perhaps even never.

He didn't resist at all when Mark pulled him in step towards the nearest armchair, sitting down and tugging the Ireland-born with him until he had Jack in his lap where the younger man willingly curled up against his friend, concealed in the warmth of that stalwart hold where he was free to express all and any possible emotion and it would never leave the room. He didn't know how long his crying continued, quiet but severe, tears and sobs and counteracting airstreams of messy in- and exhales all blending together into a chaotic jumble that soon enough left him breathless, with a pounding headache in his temples. Mark was cooing sweet nonsense to him, he could barely register the words yet the soothing melody of that smooth baritone was performing its magic well regardless, aiding his desperate attempts to get a grip on himself.

Eventually his roaring distress dissolved into a calmer sense of misery, all that was left now were shaky breaths and soft sniffles getting halfway muffled against the crook of his friend's neck. They each had one arm curled around the other's waist, Jack's other free hand pressed against the older man's chest where it was grasping a handful of the shirt that covered it. Mark's free hand in turn, moved to gently sift through the younger man's velvety hair, soon cupping Jack's moist cheek on the way down to fondly move a thumb across the reddened surface, carefully wiping away the salty trails of his upset.

They remained in comfortable silence for a small, curative while until Mark spoke up softly, bringing the unwanted reality back into their focus.

"Jack... we gotta do something about this. That... person, whoever it is, they're dangerously obsessed with you."

Yes, Jack realized that. This business they were in, as fun as the brightness and joy of it was, the shadow side of it was as equally terrifying. He'd never thought he would someday find himself in such a position, an object to somebody's unreasonable, uncontrollable desire. He was just an ordinary boy from nowhere Ireland, he'd been a nobody to the majority of the world just a few years ago. Now he'd been raised onto this pedestal he'd never really wanted to be placed upon, the admiration and love of so many people was directed towards him; him whom he had never considered to be anything special. Yet he had become the fixation of somebody to the point of them ruining both their and his life with it. What should he do? What _could_ he do? He was entirely, utterly lost.

"We gotta go to the police with this."

To that statement however, he jerked away from the other man, far enough to be able to stare into that well-crafted face, own expression an aghast mask of horror.

"No! No, I can't, I can't." He chanted under his still jittery breaths. "Mark, this person... whoever... They know where Signe lives. They know where my family lives. They'd sent me pictures of my siblings, too... I don't think any of them were aware-" Of somebody tracking their steps. The pictures had all been taken from an angle unnoticed to the people in them, so whoever it was... they were well-informed about where the persons most important to Jack spent their time. Where they lived, what they did...

"If I go to the police with this... if that person catches wind of that... Who can guarantee my family won't get hurt? Or Signe, or you or somebody else close to me? I can't- I can't put any of you in danger like that." Who could even say it was one single person? Perhaps they were two? Or more? Who could say what they would do if the police started looking for them, if any of this became news on the internet, in the community... He didn't dare imagine the mayhem that would be set loose. He couldn't do that. He absolutely, definitely, most certainly couldn't.

"Jack, listen. This-"

His hand unclenched its iron grip on Mark's shirt and pressed its palm against the other man's mouth instead, silencing him. "No, you listen. If anyone gets hurt because of me? I'll... I won't allow that, because I'd never forgive myself. This is my mess... That's why I can't- I can't-" He couldn't go to the police. He couldn't make this public. He couldn't tell anybody. Although that left the huge question of...

Mark's hand curled around his wrist, taking his hand off those plush lips. "But you can't live this way either, Jack." He reasoned quietly, and rightfully, too. "It's destroying you."

It was. Not only him, but every bond he had managed to spin to another existence out there in this huge, wide world. He'd already lost Signe... he'd cut his contact with his family to the minimum. He was about to severe his ties to his friends, too, leaving himself all alone. But he didn't know what else to do... He didn't know how else to protect everybody, how to keep them safe... He shouldn't have told any of this to Mark, either. Now the other man knew and now he would try to do what he had just promised Jack so adamantly.

_I'll protect you._

It wasn't him who needed protection, everybody else did. Right? Right...? God, his mind was a mess and his head was pounding. He needed some time to sort through the collective compendium of the notional chaos inside his skull or else he feared it might explode sometime soon.

"I'm sure the police can find a way to keep your family and Signe safe, too. I know it's a scary thought to let them know about it but Jack, the one who needs protection most right now is you."

Words spoken with gentle insistence, words that did and did not convince him of the rightfulness of such a choice. He didn't know... He didn't know, he didn't know. He didn't know anything right now.

"I just... I need some time to think." He moved to slip off Mark's lap and straightened out to stand on his own two, feeling a bit unstable from all the undergone trials he'd put his mind and body through today. "I'm gonna take a shower." It seemed beneath a downpour of water was the only time he could actually find some peace when by himself. He needed a bit of seclusion right now... Just to try and figure out what the hell he was going to do now.

"Jack."

He evaded the hand that reached out and tried to grasp him, setting his legs into motion as he went, ran, sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and slumping heavily against it, taking a moment to try and recompose. An attempt that failed miserably, at least until he doffed his clothes and got into the glassed confines of the shower cabin, hitting the faucet and lifting his face up towards the masses of warm water that came crashing down on him little later, washing away the trails of tears from his face and the glum shadows of despondent thoughts from his mind, until the only sentiment that was left pounding in his temples was the most simple and yet most complex question of...

_What now...?_

Yes, what now? What now...


	5. Consolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yush, another one done! I hope you guys will enjoy the read, and if you're interested in something a bit less dramatic and suspenseful you're welcome to check out a two-parter I uploaded some days ago and have yourself another Septiplier treat =)
> 
> And now off goes chapter 5 of this adventure!

There was pressure in his skull, his facial features scrunched up into a sorrowful, aggrieved grimace. The water was pouring down all around him and hands risen, Jack pressed the edges of his palms against his temples, trying to shut out the throbbing pain in his head and heart, slumping back against the shower wall. The rush of the falling liquid surrounded him, seeming to be right inside his brain, and squeezing his eyes shut more tightly he tried to push everything down. The feelings of fear and confusion, the hurt, the recollections. This entire situation, the chaos and conflict of it all. For a brief moment in time he wished he could wipe his memories like the hard drive of a computer so that he wouldn't remember any of it. Just re-install the operating system, reboot all programs and start anew completely, never knowing of anything that might have been there before.

The dull pressure in his temples only increased, growing over into a vivid physical perception – an even more vicious headache that caused him to groan out in misery. This was so messed up. Or rather... he was.

His entire body flinched when hands curled around his slim wrists, pulling gently to pry his own away from his head. The pulling didn't stop there, tugging his afflicted figure away from the tiled wall and right into the warm presence that had entered the shower cabin without him ever even noticing. He figured he really ought to re-learn the basic precaution of locking doors... Not that he even had the will to care about that right now.

The moment Mark wrapped his arms around him, embracing him caringly but firmly, he also realized that the older man had stepped into the glassed cubicle fully clothed. He could feel the soaked material with his own bare skin while one of those hands strayed higher, up his arm, shoulder, side of his neck, finding his moist cheek to tilt his head up and towards a kiss the young Ireland-born found himself powerless to deny. Pliant lips upon his own soft pair, moving with both rousing skill and tender affection as Mark's free arm secured a grip around his waist, pressing him even closer against that sturdy body while his own experienced a tremor that shook him up from head to toe. But there was no escape from the gentle power that had yet again caught him in its consoling grasp, the one he so desperately... so desperately...

_Hold on to me._

Their kiss deepened, pulling the first soft sound out of his pressured chest - half a moan, half a whimper; it hurt. It hurt on a million different levels; he wanted to erase it all, the thoughts which plagued his mind, the doubts and self-depreciation that tortured his spirit. There still had to be something important left within this mess that raged inside of him... Something precious, something worthy of everything that somebody could give and more. Something worthy of somebody else's love.

_I will catch you._

There was a tempered grace in that kiss they shared, a gentle passion of a different kind than just the fervor of intimacy. It was a resonance of something ungraspable and yet meaningful, strong enough to break through the resistance in Jack's heart, pulling his inner self out of the dark corner it so desperately wanted to hide in. His arms rose, weaving around that fair neck and tangling long fingers in those dark, wet strands graced by a vibrant shade of blue.

_I'm not afraid, and I won't leave._

Screwing his eyes shut tight, he wanted to trust that which was still being whispered to him without any more words ever being uttered. Just the two of them and the rush of water all around... It felt like a lucid dream, a child's fantasy consisting only of innocent white and warm light, an emotion with no image attached. He felt as though he could almost sense Mark's heartbeat through all fabric, skin and bone that separated their two pulsing muscles from each other, as though that compassionate, precious heart was, in fact, pounding alongside his very own. The hands that caressed along every inch of his body, the avid lips that went astray from his own to dot the stretch of his neck and nip along the chiseled structure of his collarbones – reassuring, venerating. Safe.

_I will protect you._

It was hard to breathe. Like Mark's affection was suffocating a part of him, killing a vile shadow replica of himself that had taken up residence in his soul lately. He wanted to run, he wanted to stay; he wanted to escape, he wanted to hold on; he was contradicted as though he was both blind and clear-sighted alike.

_...if you let me._

If he let him...? Let him get close... Let him be there... Let him fold invisible wings over Jack's own existence, their feathers fluffy and white and yet impenetrable for the evil that tried to rend asunder his very being.

Those soft, fond kisses kept wandering southwards, touching wet skin on his chest and venturing to the side, plush surface capturing a small bud prisoner. He gasped, surrendering to the sensation; metaphorically falling, quicker and deeper than he ever had. Oh, he shouldn't... They shouldn't... This was... all kinds of... all kinds of... _Wrong._ Wonderful. _Needy._ Needed. _Dangerous._ Delightful.

There were no thoughts for him to take in, just breaths - quick, sensual, heavy, his head tilting back against the shower wall, beads of water pearling down his heated skin, more kisses mapping out his quickly fluctuating chest and the taut plain of his stomach, his mind spinning in a dazzling vertigo of nameless colors and the drumming of a myriad falling droplets. When those lips moved closer to the physical wraps of by now well-roused desire, trailing over the sweet protrusion of his hipbone and steering on towards the center of carnal need, he felt his knees grow weak. His hands searched and they found a set of stout shoulders to rest upon and curl a hefty grip on, parting his own lips in a silent outcry - silent because all air got stuck inside his lungs thanks to the wet heat of that mouth enveloping his fair length in one swift motion.

"Oh... my God- Fu-... ughn...!" His fingers curled inward, digging into tough skin as the first temperate suction caused every muscle to tauten and his insides to prickle with inbound electricity, the world beginning to fade and drown in the rush of water, blood, and feverish pleasure impacting hard on his sense and senses with each fluid motion of that devilish set of lips, each slow twist of that apt tongue and each tender, airy graze of those perfect teeth.

That deadly combination was swift to reduce him to a panting, gasping mess, own distorted moans and ragged whimpers echoing in his ears as his hips began to softly buckle into the galvanizing heat of that wicked, pretty mouth on sheer instinct. His loins felt ablaze with a beautiful kind of ache, one hand staying firm in its grapple of one strong shoulder while the other skipped up and mindlessly drew long fingers through strands of velvet hair nigh black in color and slick to touch from the downpour of clear water all around them.

"Mark... oh shhhhi-..." Another twist of tongue around the head of his already weeping arousal had him quivering helplessly at the rush of bliss, so close it was the sweetest of torture to live through. Firm hands came up to grasp his hips and stabilize him further on his shaky legs during those moments in time where everything so suddenly ceased to exist.

_If you just let me._

There wasn't anything; no past, present, or future. There was just them, and a grand something whispering of how nothing could ever be wrong about _this_. About them. Or maybe he was just going in-fucking-sane here... And for good reason, too...

"Mark, I... Please, just-... Oh-! God-!" He chocked on breath and words and pleasure all at once, his eyes snapping open abruptly and unseeingly staring up, absolutely uncaring about the water that invaded his blinded sight. His heart skipped what felt like a whole series of beats as one more stifled scream tore through the pressure and flushed it out of his chest together with the milky essence that spilled into warm, living confines.

His entire body in a post-orgasmic tremble, every of his muscles slacked from vast tension and if it hadn't been for those kind hands he would have crumbled to the ground much harsher than the gentle way they guided him to settle on the shower cabin floor, right there in front of the other man. He was wheezing desperately in a struggle for dear air, feeling warm palms cupping his face either side and lifting it up for those full lips to claim his own in a marvelously ardent collision. He could do little more than gasp and whimper, tasting himself on the tip of that tongue as it shared far more than just a mix of flavors with him.

The water kept cascading down on them, its splashing upon impact with tiled ground so much louder to his warped perceptions than it truly was. His eyes were still open in an unblinking, unseeing stare, letting faint streaks of moisture seep out of their corners; whether they were water or tears or a mix of both, even Jack himself didn't know. There was an infinite void where thoughts and sentiments should be, yet for the first time in his life, that very void felt... pleasant. Like having been cleansed, like having found purpose to existing once again. Like a piece of a puzzle falling perfectly into place against another, like a missing half found to make a whole. He did not believe in fate, but not believing in something never meant that it did not subsist. Just in that moment, he could have been convinced that something like soul mates might have existed in more than just the wishful thinking of romantic minds.

It was nothing that a person who had just declared having had strongly loved somebody else should have felt... and yet he couldn't help it. It was out of his control, like so many other things long were. Perhaps he could have blamed it on the hormonal cocktail in his system but in that one moment, it was so much more tempting to bask in the idealistic notions of a dreamer than to drown in the dreary ideas of a rationalist.

"Jack, I-"

This time it was him who leaned in and sealed those lips in a nigh frantic kiss, exhaling aspirated words as he reclined again: "Don't... Please don't say anything right now..." No more, no more... No more of those sweet words, no more of that thoughtful fondness, no more of that caring touch... he couldn't take it. Not without shattering all over again, with too many pieces already scattered about to ever make a completed structure. Or was he mistaken there as well? Not a damn thing in his life seemed to make a lick of sense anymore...

"Go..." He uttered under jittery breaths, taking those wrists and pulling those hands away from his deeply flushed face, eyes falling shut again. The other man didn't move, so he gave him a faint push.

"Go. Please." He felt that chocolate-hued gaze burning on his skin, forcing one corner of his mouth to twitch upward in a shadow of a smile. "I'll be out in a minute, too... I promise..."

He heard the splash of water as Mark got up, dripping wet as he was with his soaked clothes stuck to his well-build frame. The rattle of the shower cabin doors and more meek sloshing as he stepped out, closing them again, leaving behind them Jack's slumped figure on the floor. The bathroom door then fell into frame with a soft click.

The young Ireland-born sat back onto his heels first, and then scooted a bit to find himself pressed into the corner of the shower not that much later. Drawing his legs up he circled his bent knees with his arms, hugging them to his chest and for a long moment allowing the water to continue crashing down on him while thoughts ran rampant in his head.

What the hell was going on here? With him, in his life? An ominous stalker aside, this... whatever it was that was going on between Mark and himself... What the _fuck_ was that? Now, that hadn't been the first hand- or blow-job he'd ever received but they were the first he'd had delivered by a guy and the first that had made him feel... like _that_. He had never considered himself homosexual or even bi before, in fact he still didn't; the image of kissing any other man, pleasing any other man or getting pleased by any other man didn't appeal to him at all. Mark was just... different. It was all there in the way he made Jack feel, in the way he touched, in the words he spoke... The way he could make Jack completely forget that he was indeed another man, and that they weren't supposed to... do all these things together, let alone experience an emotional attachment he didn't think he'd ever felt before. How did that saying go...? Exceptions prove the rule? Was Mark... his exception? Or was he really, truly simply losing his fucking mind?

And now his half-Korean friend knew _everything_ atop of it. How did it even come to this...? Ah yes, the letter... Mark had found the letter; that stupid piece of paper Jack should have taken better care of not losing like a fucking id-

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a goddamn fucking minute.

He shot to his feet so quickly and abruptly, he got momentarily light-headed from standing up too fast. Stopping the influx of water in a flickering motion of hitting the faucet off, he skittered out of the shower, hastily yanking a robe off the hook and throwing it on, sloppily fastening the tie as he jerked the bathroom door open. He stormed out of the bathroom like a hurricane ready to wreck chaos and destruction, having little trouble detecting the object of his wrath. Mark was in the living room, making a mess of the armchair they had occupied together not too long ago because he was still dripping wet. Granted it was just water and there was a towel he'd seemingly just dropped atop his head and hadn't really bothered to put into use just yet.

Same towel slipped off Mark's head again to fold itself atop his shoulders as he lifted it the moment he heard his fellow entertainer rush into the room. The goaded expression on Jack's features instantly prompted a concerned question: "Is everything al-"

"The letter." The younger man interrupted his friend mid-sentence. "Where did you find it?" Blue eyes sparkling like crystals of arctic ice, he drilled his gaze into that handsome face which, as of now, was mirroring confusion.

"I already told you. You dropped it."

"Bullshit." The more he thought about it, the more he realized that complete and utter bullshit was exactly what it was. "Dropped it where? When? How, even? It was in the fucking front pocket of my jeans." A pocket he didn't remember ever reaching into after storing that damned letter in there. And mind you, losing something like that when it was stuck in that area of your pants was not an easy feat by any means, if not plain impossible.

Getting up his seat in the chair, Mark narrowed his eyes, causing a small crease to appear on his foreahead. "I don't get it. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that it's impossible for me to have freaking dropped it, unless the fucking thing magically came alive and just jumped out on its own!" He wasn't wrong, was he...? It could not have happened. It could not have. "So I'm asking you. How did you get it?" The suspicion in his voice was as plain and evident as the disbelief that crossed Mark's features the very next moment.

"Are you suggesting I picked your pockets or something?" He asked incredulously.

"Well, did you?!"

To Jack's demanding counter-question, his opposite briefly gripped his head in bafflement, lowering them again to gesticulate in that specific manner he displayed when he couldn't believe what he was seeing – or hearing:

"Jack. Jack, you're being unreasonable. And a little bit paranoid, really." As he went on, his deep voice struck a higher pitch which was also very much characteristic to come through in such moments: "Why would I ever do that; steal your stuff just to give it back to you?! And how would I have even done that, for hell's sake?! I haven't been remotely close enough to you the entire time at con!"

God, was he really losing his freaking mind here...? Jack's momentary anger was swiftly melting with approach of confusion and self-doubt as well as general mental overexertion. Seeing that promptly got Mark to calm down and change gears, and taking a step towards the younger man the flow of his words was quiet and recomposed.

"When we were leaving, I noticed there was something on the floor in your booth. I picked it up, and I recognized the envelope from this morning. That's it, Jack. I swear."

Mentioned man stared at his friend for a long moment, desperately wanting to believe him while that paranoid little corner of his mind tried convincing him that something did not add up.

"Look, maybe you'd reached into your pocket for something or the other, who can exactly remember every little thing they did during the onrush of a crowd? Heck, with how busy and chaotic those things get, we'd be losing our heads half the time if they didn't happen to be attached to our necks."

Exhaling deeply, Jack finally nodded, albeit his mind promptly focused on a different problem he still had with the entirety of this. "Fine, maybe that's true. Maybe I did drop it."  And when his friend did another step, he took a step of his own – backwards, maintaining the distance between them. "But if you did find it... why did you open it? It wasn't your place to read it."

The older man chuckled softly. "Well, you said it yourself, didn't you? I have no sense for other people's privacy. Especially if they're people I care about, and all the more so when they start acting like they're not themselves."

Well... Point taken. Jack sighed in a mix of resignation and acceptance, not up for any more heated discussions. "Whatever. I'm absolutely bushed, so I'm gonna go hit the hay." Tomorrow was the last day of the con, and then he'd have to think about returning home. Yet not now. Not now, but later... Later. Still, the shadows of those ponderings were already in his mind now and he feared they'd fledge into full-grown inner demons very soon. He wouldn't get much sleep tonight, would he...

"Jack... Do you want me to stay?"

He did. He really, really did. Yet the words that came out of his mouth were...

"I'll be okay." An attempt to let a smile accompany that statement failed, thus he settled with trying to at least appear confident about his own brave proclamation.

Mark looked at him, his chocolate-hued gaze serenely unreadable. "You sure?", he posed a soft question, to which Jack casually shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm sure." No, no he wasn't. In fact the thing he was sure of was the exact opposite; he was sure that he _did_ want Mark to stay. Just... curl up next to the other man and let that warmth and scent enfold him... At the same time it scared him a little bit, just how very addicted he was getting to the feel of those arms around him. Therefore, he was letting that temptation go with a quiet: "Good night."

Unable to maintain eye contact and unwilling to risk hearing another sentence of persuasion he turned around on his heels and marched off towards the bedroom where he quickly slipped under the blanket without ever bothering to change out of his robe. A small part of him, no, a great part of him was hoping... hoping so strongly...

His heart skipped a beat when he heard the bedroom door opening after barely a minute passed, clenching his eyes shut even more tightly and almost forgetting to breathe. That man was entirely too kind, too good... Why, why, why...? How was he able to know... How was he able to sense it...? Crack open all of Jack's lies and recognize them for what they were without ever making the very liar himself feel ashamed or exposed or uncomfortable...? When that sturdy body settled behind him, when that arm wrapped itself around his waist and that breath faintly touched the nape of his neck... That moment Jack abruptly swirled around from one side to another and tucked himself away against that stalwart, supportive presence, experiencing that one inimitable, wonderful sensation of being pressed closer all the more tightly. He heard a soft, low chuckle and that smooth baritone speaking up in gentle amusement with a note of tender, playful reproach:

"You're such an altruistic little idiot, you know that? You never say what you truly want... Sometimes you really have to stop worrying about other people and do what's best for you."

Probably, the other man was right. Likely, Jack would never change in that one aspect still. "I can't..." He whispered in artless sincerity. "That wouldn't be me anymore." Thinking about others to the point of it being detrimental to his own well-being was part of who he was. If he stopped doing that... he wouldn't want to know the person he'd become. "I'll always be putting others first."

A steady hand thoughtfully adjusted the blanket around the two of them to see them enveloped properly in its warmth and creating a cozy cocoon around them before settling back to its rightful position around him.

"That's alright. Because I'll always be putting you first."

He swallowed thickly against the impact those simple but momentous words were having on his heart, remaining silent and just listening to the two of them breathing. Here. Now. Together. If he only could...

"Mark...?"

"Hmm...?"

There were so many things he wanted to express... Appreciation, gratitude, affection... Fears, emotions, hopes... Yet the words that came out of his mouth, quiet and almost contrite, were...

"Good night..."

He couldn't see it, but he could feel the clement smile on those full lips when they touched a loving kiss to his forehead.

"Good night, you little goober."


	6. Compendium

It was a beautiful feeling, waking up next to someone. One that had been denied to him for a long time in his life, even with his first real girlfriend. And his second, too, although Signe had been there long enough for him to get used to her petite body lying next to him, if only to show him how painful the void could be when it was gone again. He wondered if this was what she had felt like when she would wake up wrapped up in his arms the way he now lay wrapped up in Mark's, and he felt like an even bigger asshole for robbing her off that feeling by pushing her out of his life so violently. She must hate him now... But it was better for her to hate and stay away than linger near and bring herself in danger. Same applied here as well, didn't it...? It was better for Jack himself to stay away from Mark before this crazy shit he got himself caught up in would hurt the other man. Yet still... he couldn't bring himself up to unfurl out of his comfy snuggle, hidden from the world in a warm fortress built out of Mark and blankets and pillows.

He felt light pressure at the top of his head; a soft kiss pressed to the green-tinted crown of his otherwise chestnut-colored hair.

"Good morning..." A quiet, slightly groggy baritone spoke up; he could feel the deep rumble of its silky melody in that firm chest he lay cuddled up so trustingly against.

"How could you tell I was awake...?" He posed an equally quiet question, receiving a raspy chuckle before the actual reply.

"I just can."

He had to wonder, was it a natural talent of that empathetic, kind heart? Or were Mark's senses really already so very attuned to Jack himself? Somehow, it caused his heart and stomach to do a silly little flutter. He wiggled a bit in his spot, enough to lift his head and let the icy blue of his eyes meet warm, fawn counterparts.

"Why did you make a move on me?" He realized the query was sudden, watching those dark brows furrow in warranted perplexity soon expressed by a simple:

"Huh?"

Yet it was something he'd wondered about for quite a while now, and it felt like he could bring it up while they were here like this, while the atmosphere felt... personal, inviting for sincerity and candor. He hoped he wasn't mistaken.

"A few days back, when you kissed me. When you... well." Did that... thing that he'd done with that skillful hand of his. "You didn't even know that Signe and I'd broken up. So why did you make a move?" A quite brazen one at that, too. "Had you planned on... Well." Breaking them up. Trying to come between them.

He lost that warmth, almost regretting bringing all this up when Mark moved to sit up in bed. The half-Korean lifted a hand, dragging his fingers through the velvet of his hair adorned with a vibrant blue.

"I... don't know. Maybe." His palm stopped at the back of his neck, gripping there and massaging it in faint distress. "Truth is, I'd planned on it the very first time I saw you in person, back at that con, you know?" A heavy sigh, and he let that clever head of his hang, shaking it. "The day after you'd left, I... regretted it. Not having told you how I felt. Not having tried to-"

Slowly, Jack sat up in bed as well, watching the other man in all disbelief, incredulity and stupefaction. He'd wanted to... back then already?

Mark twisted his torso, the two of them back to facing each other and the young Ireland-born could read the emotions which passed that handsome face all too clearly. The honesty of them. The urgency, the pain.

"I know it's wrong and not something you should do, trying to get between two people who seem so positively happy and in love, but I just... I wanted you so badly, and it only grew worse over time. And then you were here again, and you acted all weird. You seemed so vulnerable. It's likely a terrible thing to say, but I kinda... saw an opening?"

All he could do was blink and breathe, watching a truth he'd never known existed unravel right there in front of him, released syllable by syllable from that one mouth.

"I thought, well, if you're in this bad of a shape and she hadn't been able to fix it, that maybe I can and then I'd have a chance to... well." Mark rose his hands and let them fall back into his lap again, exhaling in resigning admittance. "Snatch you away." Groaning softly in frustration with either himself or the words he was speaking, he averted his chocolate-hued gaze. "Shit. I know how it sounds, believe me. Still, I'm not sorry I have the hots for you. But I _am_ sorry that it seems like your and Signe's suffering had worked to my advantage and benefit. There's truly, really nothing I desire less than seeing you in pain. I just..."

Reaching out an unsteady hand, Jack placed it on his friend's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. It took him a moment to find his voice; it was soft as it resounded. Soft, yet steady. "It's okay... You don't have to say anything more. I get it... I think."

At least to a certain degree, he guessed he could comprehend having feelings for somebody who was already taken and being unable to help wishing they were yours instead. The thing he couldn't really comprehend was somebody feeling that way in regards to him, because he didn't think there was anything about him that made him worth pining so desperately for. He was just another guy... one among billions, and there were so many more who were better than him. Stronger than him, smarter than him, more attractive, dependable, courageous than him, more... everything than him. He was just a random boy from a random spot on planet earth who'd gotten lucky. So incredibly, incredibly lucky... Truly, the luck of the Irish was not lost on him.

He felt his face taken by warm hands, raised to have him look back at that living canvass of emotions, the affable disbelief and covert desperation he saw reflecting on those chiseled features, the airy notes of artless passion and candid affection he heard reverberating in that inimitable voice.

"No. No, you don't get it at all. I swear, Jack, if you could only see yourself through my eyes... You're breathtaking."

He tried to look away but he couldn't turn his head, casting his gaze downward instead, unseeing as it was when he kept it glued to the crumpled up blanket in between their sitting forms. "Shut up..." He uttered, befuddled. The blush was there, he could feel its warmth on the skin of his cheeks. Why... why did the other man say things like that? Those beautiful things that were too good and could in no way apply to somebody like Jack.

And then he felt himself reclining, guided to lie back down into the covers by those reliable hands which stemmed themselves into the cushion either side of his once more spinning head, the heat of that body engulfing him when it hovered over his own after one of those legs had swung itself up and over one of Jack's own, coming to rest right in between.

"I won't. Not before I can make you understand." Mark let his sturdy frame sink down even more by bending his elbows and allowing his forearms to act as pillars now, holding himself up above Jack's slender figure. "You don't even know what having you lying beneath me like this does to me. What it makes me wanna do to you."

The younger man felt his breathing grow unsteady just like the rhythm of his heartbeat was, barely daring to move a muscle in this state of entranced anxiety their suddenly so very charged proximity was putting him in.

"Tell me... what would _you_ want me to do to you?"

Another hard swallow moving his throat, and he was at a loss of what to say, or what to do with himself. "I..." He felt hot all over, unable to tear his gaze away from the predatory gleam in the gentle depths of those dark, spellbinding eyes. He pressed his body further into the mattress, or at least attempted to, when those lips drew closer and all but ghosted their words over his own plush pair.

"I want to know all of your favorite places to be touched..."

He couldn't help the jitter of his breath and the flutter of his eyelashes when those very lips touched a slow, feathery kiss to the very corner of his mouth, moving on along the stubble on his cheek towards the pale plain of his neck.

"Or maybe I should discover for myself..."

The airy touch of exhaled words along his skin sent a shiver down his spine, spreading in a treacherous tingle from synapse to synapse as every nerve in his body came alive and decided to chase after that riling sensation.

"I do already know of one..."

Arrived at his ear those devilish lips ventured just a little bit past the earlobe and pressed to that blessed little spot a bit behind and immediately beneath it. An electric jolt to his entire body resulting in a mild, sharp gasp tumbling out of his pressured chest. He was still clad in the same attire he so carelessly had gone to sleep in last night after his shower – a bathrobe, just a bathrobe that was held together by a singular, flimsy tie around his waist. A warm hand stroking down his side slipped right between the lower halves of the habiliment parting readily to the slightest of nudge, allowing that large palm to settle on the bare side of his thigh and stroke down to his knee before the fingers attached to same hand were curled inward a little bit, harmlessly pressing short nails and soft fingertips into his skin before dragging itself back up. The gently scratching, gliding sensation was phenomenally effective, causing him to suck the air in through his teeth with a soft hissing sound.

"Ah. Seems I've found another..."

Hot breath at his ear, teeth carefully biting down on the outer shell of it while that devious hand repeated its treatment and it had his entire midsection tautening, every muscle clenching at the sensual prickling erupting in his loins, causing the first, restrained sound to slip him, shy and sweet. Oh, this was bad... this was bad and paradoxically also so, so good. Thrilling, just like the slow pull those fingers gave the loose knot the tie of his bathrobe was spun in, and he barely dared exhale the air held captive in his lungs when a chary tug caused same tie to come undone entirely.

"I want to see your pretty face twist up in pleasure..."

He felt the feathery brush of the fabric as it meekly slid apart to either side of his tensed, modelesque figure, exposing it not to sight obscured by another body and partly by a blanket as well, but to the heat he felt radiating off the broader frame right there above him.

"I wanna hear you moan my name..."

The leg snuggled in between his own curled lightly and carefully pressed down, applying weight to the exactly right spot and moving minimally yet entirely enough to let him feel the friction of the motion on his swiftly hardening erection, drawing another honeyed little sound from him. Words and actions that were making his face heat up, dusting it with a sweet rosy color. The palpitation of his heart were speedy ones, echoing in his head together with the rush of hot crimson that it pumped so vigorously through every blood vessel. He bit his lip in a fruitless effort to keep quiet, an impossible task in view of the torturous way that leg was gingerly rubbing down on him with just the right amount of pressure, his hands coming up to tangle one set of long fingers in silky strands of blue-tinted brown while the other clamped down on a sturdy shoulder, not yet able to decide if he wanted to push the other man away or pull him in closer.

The longer it continued the less coherent his thoughts got, all the more so when those lips were put to use again, trailing a moist path along his collarbone and down the center of his chest, venturing to the side where a slick tongue peeked out to playfully flicker over his nipple. Jack's eyes screwed shut more tightly, body tensing up even more, his breathing getting all the shallower when a hot mouth closed around the hardened, erect bud, giving it a fair suction followed by gentle biting and tugging. His voice broke out in a first real moan without his consent whatsoever, burning up beneath those mercilessly loving touches and unable to do anything other than cling to the one who hounded that liquid fire through his veins. Gods, he could barely stand it...

"Mark..." His voice was trembling as eagerly as his body did, traced by desperation for the other man to either stop or keep going, anything but this sensual torment he was keeping him caught in.

The response was a dark, low grunt, warm breath striking in puffs against the skin of his chest: "Yeah... like that..."

He would have been embarrassed if in the very same moment he hadn't realized having discovered a major weakness of that fiendish presence. He might have been in a daze but he hadn't missed the way his call had made Mark shiver and so he called out to him again, that one name soft and aspirated and tender on his tongue as he let it slip off of it once again.

"Mark..."

The movement in between his legs stopped, allowing him a deep, almost relieved breath, meek confusion seizing him upon perceiving that trusted warmth move away from him completely. He pried open his eyes to see the half-Korean sit back onto his heels, strong hands gripping at the back of his shirt's collar and yanking it off over his blue-topped head in one smooth motion, sending it off and away with a careless flick of wrist. Those eyes now almost midnight-black in color, darkened by lustful passion and unhidden desire as they nigh unblinkingly watched Jack's form splayed out atop the downy mattress, the younger man's chest fluctuating hard with messy breaths and the opened bathrobe pooling either side of his porcelain-pale figure.

Blue eyes could see the impassioned impatience in every sharp motion as those hands relentlessly worked on getting that stalwart body rid of the boxers clinging to the firmness of those hips as well, before both appendages dived down, palm up along the linen, sliding their way right underneath Jack's back. They gripped there and pulled up, the venerating gaze of those obsidian orbs never breaking their lock with clear, sky-like counterparts.

"Come here... come here..."

A soft, breathless beckon of that husky, deep voice and it made the Ireland-born way too putty in those hands, crawling atop that lap the moment he was upright, the inner sides of his thighs spread out along the outer sides of Mark's. Hands touching to his chest, brushing upwards to push the bathrobe off the round curvatures making up his shoulders, the material slipping down his arms and fluttering away to rest atop the bed behind him, forgotten.

It was a spell and they both were under it, enchanted to the point of feeling absolutely helpless in any endeavor to fight it. Jack didn't feel a need to fight, either... Right now all he wanted was to keep getting lost more and more, deeper and deeper into the metaphorical woods until he'd be so far gone that he'd never find his way out again. Stay here where there was no fear, no uncertainty, no confusion and no responsibilities; no matter how transient this moment was, he knew Mark could make him feel like it was going to last forever. Like forever was what the two of them were and if only during those minutes where they were so wrapped up in each other that nothing and no one else mattered.

His arms weaved a loop around that fair neck and in return one of those strong limbs snapped around him in a tight ring, pressing them up against each other torso to torso, their erections caught up against one another in the squeeze of their bellies, eliciting both of them to groan at the sensation. His mouth opened a crack to help the chaotic intakes of his shaky breaths, his lips soon claimed fervently by another pair, a wet tongue slipping past to twist and twirl around his own for even more mind-blowing perceptions to pour out onto his poor, heated senses. It was a sharp, sensual moan he released into that boundless kiss of theirs, everything within him wild aflutter with all the impressions, mental and physical, that went barreling throughout him at a murderous speed.

His lips were released just to be snatched up again and again and again, passionate, sloppy kisses getting away between the mumbles of that warm, smooth voice that filled his head entirely, forcing out any other thoughts and sentiments.

"Sean... Holy shit, you... You're driving me crazy..."

He whimpered for the lack of sense and air to form any decent reply. Crazy... crazy... maybe he was. Maybe they both were...

"You're absolutely killing me..."

No, no, no... The one doing the killing here wasn't him... it wasn't him at all... The brutal murder those gentle hands and words were committing over and over again... the invisible blood they spilled as they tore him apart in an impossibly wonderful way to expose the vulnerable, raw core lying at the center of his entire existence... and all only to cradle that very core protectively in a cozy embrace of fluffy white feathers created out of inviting warmth and curative affection. He wanted... needed...

"More..." More of it. All of it. Everything. Sharing precious oxygen in their chaotic breaths as they went, he wanted to say so much and nothing at all. "Gods, Mark, I need you..." Now. Right now.

His breath caught on a heady moan ripping its way out of his chest when one of those hands skittered down and curled a rough palm around both of their erections, cradling them in a firm grasp and delivering the first slow, pumping motion that had him gasping for dear air. He dropped his head atop that solid shoulder and turned to hide his face against heat and darkness comprising the perfect curve of that fair neck. Soft 'ah...'s and gentle 'oh...'s were pouring from his lips now, his voice shuddering out of him to the steady up and down motions of that devilish hand. He could feel kisses trailing his temple, down the side of his face and neck, the dip where it connected to his shoulder teased by the pressure of harmless bites and it all was making him quiver all over, clutching at that strong back and driving short nails into tough skin, dragging faint red marks along the plain of its thick texture.

That wicked mouth was near his ear then, whispering sinful temptation right into his brain it seemed.

"You too, now... Jack... I want to feel your hand right there with mine..."

It felt like having sunk into a sea of cotton, a dreamlike haze that was too much of a reality, wiggling his hand southwards and allowing it to join the sweet torture of his senses. It shook as it curled around both of their lengths in a snugly fit, feeling the slick heat of it beneath his palm and catching moisture from the weeping tips already so richly dripping pre-cum. He couldn't help the sounds that escaped his throat, trying to hide his face even further against the curvature of Mark's neck and shoulder and still never missing the deep rumble of that voice as it released its own small sounds of pleasure, charming groans and gasps mingling all too perfectly with the melody of his own noise palette. The sole idea of this... of what they were doing right here, right now and the how... His face seemed to be aflame with a bright, red tint and his whole body appeared to be ablaze as well, feeling light-headed in the wake of all bliss and mortification.

It was hard to keep the steadily rising pleasure at bay, his moans and gasps and whimpers getting distinctly more desperate, accompanied in their rousing melody by the soft groans and grunts and growls of the man who was very obviously very set on breaking his sanity to pieces.

"Mark... oh, shi- shi... t... my God..." Oh merciful Lord, this was... was... He was so close it was almost painful, breathing in and barely breathing out, creating an imbalance of air streams in his chest and only making it delightfully worse for himself.

"... I need to kiss you..."

And it had to be the most sensuous, erotic thing he'd ever had whispered to him in his entire life. The very timbre of that voice, the sheer reverberation of that phrase; the pure, artless, real need of it... Like Mark needed him in a way that was absolutely vital to existence, like he needed him in order to live and be alive. In the entire span of his 25 years spent on this earth, he'd never felt so wanted and he'd never wanted something – someone - else so much.

"... Jack... please..."

He granted that wish with a minimal angling of his head, feeling Mark's lips crash to his with avid force like a furious torrent to a dam, a dynamic and passionate energy transferred to both of their working hands as well. The world went spinning and faded out into splotches of colors dancing behind his tightly shut eyelids, the movement of stroking palms becoming accompanied by instinctual, absentminded thrusts of hips pushing the two of them closer and closer to the brink up until their gentle outcries collided into each other within the intimate lock of their mouths when the well spilled over inside and out, the thick of it mixing together to trickle over the back of their hands and staining the skin of their lower torsos as well. But the high lasted a few beatific moments longer, keeping his entire body in wonderful strain until all muscles released their tension abruptly, causing him to slack against the stronger body which he clutched so desperately at.

His breathing was sporadic, unwilling to reset to normality again for moments on end, leaving him relishing in the way their chests heaved against each other, the puffs of air on his heated skin and the thundering heartbeat rushing hot blood throughout his exhilarated system.

"Stay..."

A heavy whisper at his ear, himself left with just enough energy to let him crease his brow in a mix of confusion and anxiety. Stay...?

"What...?" He'd meant to ask 'what do you mean' but the rest of the question was there only in intonation, although Mark didn't seem to have had trouble understanding it.

"Stay here... with me, in LA."

Jack's brows creased some more, expression growing further into a full-fledged frown.

"Mark... I can't." Even though he would be lying if he said that a part of him didn't want to. Just to leave it all behind and stay here, in the shielding shadow of this one warm, safeguarding presence. All day... every day.

A fond kiss, touched gingerly to his forehead; for some elusive reason it almost caused him to choke up. Again.

"Just for a few days longer. To calm down, to think things through. To figure out what we want to do about... everything."

He swallowed hard, subconsciously pressing up closer and feeling those arms immediately curl an even firmer hold around him. "We...?" Two tiny little letters making up one tiny little word which comprised an entire compendium of thoughts and feelings where two separate worlds would melt together and become one single whole. Could the pair of them do that...? Become one single whole...

"Yes. We, Jack. _We_ can figure it all out. We _will_. Together."

"I don't know..." He exhaled, drawing back in a shaky breath. "I don't know..." And it did choke him up; the emotions half of which he could barely even define. He felt the echo of unshed tears right there in his voice as it trembled and waned, leaving his lips to form nothing but a helpless, forlorn chant. "I don't know, Mark... I don't know..." He didn't know what to do with all of this. With any of this.

A hand on the nape of his neck, a thumb under the curve of his jaw, nudging gently so that his head tilted upwards, pools of tender blue locking with persuasive kindness of deep brown.

"Just stay."

And exactly like a day ago, he couldn't say no. Couldn't, didn't want to, had no strength or will to even try and refuse. He simply nodded, his reply so hushed it might have been just in his mind but by the way those eyes brightened up with wondrous sparkles of light he knew he'd been heard more than well in the words he so quietly uttered: "I'll stay..."

And he could still taste the sweetness of that smile when Mark's head dipped down and those lips pressed softly to his own, the entirety of him surrendering to that delicate warmth and pure affection, letting that feeling carry him away towards the twinkle of an unspoken promise hiding in that one momentous, artless kiss.

The promise that somehow, someway... everything would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a bit longer; college starts in two weeks for me again and since I'm a master of procrastination, I still have a buttload of essays and assignments to finish Orz. Nevertheless, I squeezed in some time here and there to finish up another chapter. Hope you'll enjoy reading and let me know what you think of it in a comment - the support is always much appreciated (and right now quite needed, too, lol)! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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